Mutual Healing
by ink obsessed
Summary: Ch. 9 up! The Weasleys hit hard times and Ginny takes a job with Madame Pomfrey in exchange for tuition at Hogwarts. But Draco Malfoy has a dark secret only Madame Pomfrey and the hospital wing know. Can Ginny heal him? Can he heal her?
1. Chapter 1: Challenged

A/N: hello everyone! This is my first fanfic … be kind! The idea is a sort of random one, but I'm a real ginny/draco shipper =) even if this is my first fanfic, I've been reading them like a heroin addict since this summer. Really not doing wonders for my schoolwork, but oh well. I'd like to say I'm inspired by my writing goddess Ilana – she turned me on to fanfic and yes … gasp … harry potter in the first place. Check out her stories – she's to whom it may concearn (ID 264889)

Review please! I'm one of those feedback addicted people … I'm not entirely sure it's safe for me to start getting hooked on reviews … *sigh* oh well. I really do want to know what you think – flames and constructive criticism more than welcome! You can email me too, if you're really delighted (or disgusted) – xangelicfirex@yahoo.com

Anyway. Now that I've bored you with a very longwinded note. On to the story!

~angelic fire~

Title: Mutual Healing

Summary: The Weasleys hit hard times and Ginny takes a job with Madame Pomfrey in exchange for tuition at Hogwarts. Things get complicated when Ginny discovers a certain secret Draco Malfoy and Madame Pomfrey share – can they heal eachother?

Rating: R (just in case … I do tend to get quite passionate with my characters *wink* 'specially when draco's involved… *coughs violently*)

Disclaimer: Glory and Praises to JK Rowling!

Chapter 1 – Challenged

"WHAT?!" Ginny gaped in disbelief, staring into her parents impassive faces.

Molly Weasley shifted a howling Thomas to her left hip. "Virginia, I'm sorry, we really had no choice."

Her husband sighed. "Ginny … pumpkin …" Ginny scowled. "Please try to understand. Ever since Lucius _murdered_ Fudge and became Minister …"

"Don't endorse rumors in front of the children, Arthur!" Molly frowned in disapproval.

"Fine. Ever since Fudge had a 'heart attack' _alone_ after an _anonymous_ private meeting, Malfoy has demoted and cut anyone he deems unfit to represent Magical England." Arthur raked nervous hands through his burning red hair. "Love, I'm not making _half_ of what I used to, and what with Luke starting school in two years time and the new baby .."

"You've decided I'm not worth it and should drop my education after five bloody years?"

Molly gasped and gave Ginny a reproachful glare, pointedly covering little Thomas's ears. Ginny rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to protest further.

Mr. Weasley put up his hand to silence her. He sighed deeply. "Ginny, at least we're not pulling you out completely. Professor Dumbledore is being very understanding, he was so kind to make this arrangement. You'll still be able to finish school!"

Ginny scoffed. "Right, just without any friends to speak of and the contempt of every other student at Hogwarts. Great compromise, Dad." She paused, glaring at her father. "And I suppose Ron is just going to continue as usual? Of course, you would never dream of interfering with the life of one of your _sons_, but your _daughter_, well, you can afford to let _her_ suffer."

"Virginia Weasley! Take that back right now, young lady!" Molly said sharply, placing a restraining hand on her husband's arm. Arthur's face was quickly approaching the colour of his hair, and he looked to be smoking with rage.

"Virginia…" he began slowly, then closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. "You have no idea how difficult it for me to do this. Not only do I feel inadequate for not being able to provide for my only daughter, my princess …" Ginny rolled her eyes again. "…but I'm also faced with knowing after next year she'll be on her own, and I won't be able to help her into the world at all. Ginny, your mother and I have given you everything we have. This is the smallest of sacrifices – and of course you will still have friends! It's not like you're living in Hogsmeade. You'll still dorm with your friends, and attend your regular classes, you'll just have to juggle a part-time job into that. And Ron …" Arthur paused meaningfully. "Your mother and I didn't think it was appropriate for us to ask him to work in his seventh year."

Ginny stared. "Dad! Hello! I'm in sixth year! I only have two years of Hogwarts left, and you want me to spend them in the hospital wing helping Madame Pomfrey?" Ginny felt daggers pulling at her heart, watching all the dreams she had of her future crumbling to an impoverished heap on the floor.

Molly looked at her daughter with eyes full of tears. "Ginny, you should be grateful! We're letting you stay! Do you have any idea how helpful it would be to have you stay home and find a steady job? And you haven't even noticed that we've carefully considered your love for the healing arts and medicine!"

Ginny let her head fall a bit in shame. She had topped out in Hogwarts' advanced Healing classes last year, she had an insatiable thirst for the subject. She had spent all last year working with Professor Limbaugh (the new healing arts teacher) and Snape doing independent studies and researching antidotes and counter-charms to deadly curses. The thrill of knowing her work would help someone, that her compassion had the power to save lives was a natural high for her. It truly was kind of her parents to bear that in mind when they were deliberating what to do … for Merlin's sake, they could have put her in with Madame Pince in the library or something. Ginny grimaced at the thought.

She looked at her parents again. Their faces seemed creased with lines of worry, and they seemed so old to her all of the sudden. Wisps of gray hair tangled through her mother's fiery mane, and her father's frown lines focused on her with unbearable intensity. Their eyes searching hers for a reaction, pleading with her to understand and to not judge them too harshly. She realized they were doing this for her, for her own good. That horrible realization every child hates to make – her parents were right, and they really did have her best interests in mind. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry Mum, Dad. I guess … I'm just having trouble resigning myself to two years of fatigue and being an anti-socialite." She sighed again. "But I suppose that's how life is, isn't it?" She smiled weakly."

Molly beamed at her daughter proudly through her tears and enveloped her in a suffocatingly loving embrace. "You'll manage, angel. You always have."

Ginny looked into her father's eyes over her mother's shoulders. His amber depths thanked her, once again begging her to understand.

Working for tuition. She laughed hollowly.

Oh what the hell. She'd put up with worse than this. If there was anything Virginia Weasley could handle, it was a challenge. 


	2. Chapter 2: Harsh Realities

A/N: *sigh* how sad is this. I _dreamt_ about this story last night. I guess I have the right to get passionate about it though =). Thank you to my two amazing reviewers! You made my life!! hehe I love you Ilana!

I know it seems vague right now, but I promise, I have some wicked ideas for this story … and the promised Ginny/Draco action will be coming into play very soon. 

Disclaimer: ha, that's a joke. All of the amazing setting and characters belong to my hero and god, J.K. Rowling. I am but a humble amateur … only the plot and Professor Limbaugh are mine.

****

Chapter 2: Harsh Realities

A slim, flame haired siren materialized from the shadows by the entrance to platform 9 ¾. Her carmine locks fell in soft curls to her waist, and her porcelain skin glowed in the dim light. Her face was dusted innocently with freckles, but her deep amber and chocolate flecked eyes spoke of a maturity improportionate to her age. A delicate pair of auburn brows arched gracefully over long, thick lashes.

Her eyes followed a bustling, red-haired family that the watcher disdainfully recognized as the pure-blooded, yet dirt poor, Weasley family. She kept her distance, and stalked through the pillar a full ten minutes behind the raucous brood.

His eyes followed her, inspecting the soft curves accented in her gothic blue lace top and black miniskirt. He watched her, watched her carry herself through the station with head held high, dignified and unafraid.

He watched, and wondered who this fiery angel could possibly be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny fumed in the corner of the platform, eyeing her family and stubbornly waiting for them to leave before she walked into the pillar and onto the train. Ron had been an insufferable git all summer; and boarding the train with him would mean sitting with the Dream Team. She absolutely would not. Her patience for Harry and Hermione had run out long ago, and yet she had to plaster a fake smile on her face and follow them like a puppy dog. Ron seemed to feel this was only appropriate, after all, he had to protect his little sister right? Her "friends" were his friends. His problems, her problems. Anything that happened in her life he knew about. She was sick of being Ron's shadow – sick of having no real friends and being robbed of her own identity.

She walked through the station holding her head high and her shoulders straight, mustering all of her pride. She stared defiantly outward, determined to prove to the world that she had the strength to tackle the task before her. After dumping her bags, she sadly savoured the few flattering looks thrown at her as she walked down the boarding platform, knowing full well that in a matter of days the only looks she would be getting would be off the ends of her classmates' noses. Who would want to associate themselves with a _working girl_? Her family's poverty was already well-known and well-teased, this would be the icing on the cake for people like Professor Snape, Draco Malfoy … Pansy Parkinson. Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust and thrust the train doors open.

Upon finding an empty cabin, she flopped down onto the seat, exhausted. Worried. Grateful for not having to put up with the Golden Trio, and yet heartbroken because she didn't have anyone else to go to.

_Well, at least that means you won't have any friends to lose when everyone finds out you're working for a living in sixth year._

Somehow she didn't believe herself.

Ginny curled herself into a ball on the long, plush-olive seat and let a tear trickle down her cheek. She really was on her own. Pushed into the world prematurely – she could feel the oppressing burden of responsibility weighing down on her already. Her money (or lack thereof), her life, her decisions, her future – all were hers now. Not her parents, not her family's – hers. She felt entirely overwhelmed.

Another salty tear found its way down her face as she allowed her eyes to flutter close.

About an hour later, Ginny woke to a terrified Hufflepuff second year gingerly tapping her shoulder.

"Uhh … umm …" they boy stuttered. "I'm so sorry! I didn't want t … t … to wake you!" He blushed a deep crimson as he met Ginny's eyes, shuffling his feet. "Uhh … uhhh … Dumbledore called for you … he … umm … asks you meet him in the faculty cabin right away."

Ginny sat up and yawned. She smiled gently and thanked the boy, whose eyes and finally ventured back to hers. The poor kid looked as if he would faint, and with a weak grin and bright red cheeks, fled the room.

Ginny chuckled and tossed her hair, running a hand through the rumpled curls. Selecting a dark, modest robe from her carrying case, she threw it on and stepped out into the hall, not bothering to tie it up. She faced the direction of the faculty car. Somehow, she had the distinct impression that her future awaited on the other side of the faculty door … and everything inside her wanted to run the other way. So instead, she took a deep breath and forced herself to run _for_ the door, knowing there was no way she'd make it if she stopped to think about it.

Dumbledore, always a step ahead, anticipated her entrance and opened the door as she skidded to a halt in front of the staff cabins. She smiled, flush from her impromptu sprint, and settled herself nervously on the bench across from her Headmaster.

"Chocolate Frog?" he asked congenially.

Ginny shook her head, her stomach doing flip-flops. Chocolate probably wouldn't be smart right now.

She watched in amusement as he struggled with the fidgety creature and slowly took it apart with his teeth. A most strange thing to watch your headmaster do.

Finally he rubbed his hands and faced her with a twinkle in his eye. "So, Miss Weasley."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"

"I'm sure you know, but I have accepted your parents generous proposal of your services to the Hogwarts hospital wing in return for the last two years of your magical education." His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Ginny sighed and dropped her head, despondent. "That's right, Professor."

His damned eyes were twinkling again. "Why so put out, Miss Weasley? I thought you enjoyed the healing arts? Professor Limbaugh hasn't stopped singing your praises for three years."

"Oh no, it's not that Professor … I love medicine, it's what I want to do with my life. It's just … I wasn't exactly expecting to make decisions about my life for a few years yet."

Dumbledore nodded wisely. "A bit sudden, eh?"

"Yea."

"Well, if anyone at Hogwarts is more capable of handling the responsibility, I'd be hard-pressed to name them, Miss Weasley."

Ginny blushed at the compliment – such words were rare from Dumbledore.

"You are very intelligent, highly talented, and quite stubborn." His eyes were twinkling like mad now. "A perfect combination for a young lady who has a head start on society and is becoming her own, independent person.

Ginny had never looked at it that way. Rather appealing, actually.

"Young for such responsibility – yes. But incapable? No. Most certainly not."

Ginny smiled at the old man gratefully, feeling empowered by his words.

"Thank you Professor. I'll do my best, sir."

"I'm sure you will, Virginia. And who knows, something wonderfully unexpected might come from this. Never overlook opportunities, Miss Weasley." His eyes were going full tilt now.

"Alright. I'm sure you'd like to know exactly how you're going to manage all this, hmm?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, as you have already accumulated enough credits in your healing arts courses, you have an open period this year anyway. That hour will be dedicated to your new job, as well as your evenings from class dismissal until supper. You will also be on call throughout the day, if Madame Pomfrey ever needs help. This," He tossed her a small, engraved disc. "will light up and burn in your pocket when she needs you. It also acts as a carte-blanche to get out of your classes. I trust you will not abuse the privilege." He gave her a solemn look.

"In addition, you will work Saturday mornings from 9o'clock till noon, and Sundays all day." He smiled. "Poppy is, to say the least, delighted to have an assistant. She remembers you fondly from your labs last year, and looks forward to working with you." He paused and chuckled thoughtfully. "She also, no doubt, looks forward to her new day off – Sundays, that is." Twinkling eyes looked into hers, searching for a reaction.

Ginny took a deep breath, a little agape at the amount of work she was faced with. When would she ever manage schoolwork? Gritting her teeth, she smiled back at the wizened old Professor and said she was certainly looking forward to working with Madame Pomfrey as well, and that she would not miss a shift.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Miss Weasley, we are well aware you are a sixteen year old girl with interests outside of 'working' and school. We will give you plenty of elbowroom – after all, you are only sixteen once." His eyes twinkled again, but this time in a way she rather liked.

Ginny walked out of the meeting and down the hall, nearly colliding with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. She scowled unpleasantly, glaring at Harry who was seemingly hypnotized by the shirt beneath her open robes. She made a slight clucking sound and beckoned him up with a finger.

"I'm up here, Harry."

Harry Potter blushed bright red and began inspecting his thumbnail. Ginny smirked, loving that she could still affect him after how he had treated her. _Bastard_, she thought, smiling in triumph.

Ron glowered at her. "Ginny Weasley, where have you been?! You know you're not supposed to sit alone! Here I was thinking we had gone and left without you, after that horrible display you put on at the train station."

Ginny stared. Did he have any idea how much he sounded like their father?

"Oh sod off Ron. You really need to get a life if the best entertainment you get is controlling mine." She turned on her heel and left a very moody Golden Trio behind her. 

__

Oh, who cares. You've put up with their crap for long enough. You've never been submissive and meek – don't start now. Don't let them push you into a corner.

She strode down the aisle until she suddenly smashed into something rather tall …

A voice above her groaned and barked, "Jesus fucking Christ, watch where you're go …" 

Ginny snapped her head up and glared at a bewildered looking Draco Malfoy through her now thoroughly disheveled hair.

"_You_ watch where _you're_ going, you pompous ferret!" she spat.

Draco gawked at her, dazzled and confused.

"Got a problem, ferret-boy?"

Malfoy stared. _The angel from the platform,_ he thought.

"What, cat got your tongue?" She smirked and stood up, smoothing her skirt and giving Malfoy a patronizing glare.

"You … Who are you?" Draco cursed inwardly. Where the hell was his Malfoy charm when he needed it?

"Very funny, Malfoy. Like you haven't been making fun of my family and red hair for years."

The realization hit Malfoy like a brick wall.

__

Fuck! 

"_Weasley_?!"

She smirked. "The one and only."

Damn, a smirk? Hell, he hadn't thought it possible for so much change to occur over one summer … and such good change, at that. He mentally slapped himself. This was _Weasley_. Virginia _Weasley_. He recovered quickly.

"Sorry, weasel, I was temporarily blinded by your hair. Now that I can see your ugly face, I'll be sure not to forget."

"Nice try, Malfoy. I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public."

Ginny scoffed at him and turned to go, but as she did she noticed an almost imperceptible grimace pass over Malfoy's face … as if he were in excruciating pain for half a second. His face evened out quickly – _but of course_ – so that he could shout after her through the crowded hallway,

"Couldn't help but notice you've set aside this _special time_ to let the whole world now about your new whoring job on Temptation Alley!"

Ginny turned around and licked her lips suggestively before flipping him off. She sneered as she spun around and stalked away.

__

Jesus, thought Malfoy. _ Fiery angel, indeed. Classic Weasley, hotheaded and temperamental … yet it's so delicious on her. And that smirk …_ This time he really did slap himself.


	3. Chapter 3: Working Girl

A/N: things start to heat up in this chapter … I'm anxious to hear what you think! Look at that poor review button down there … simply_ begging_ to be clicked. Or email me if you want – xangelicfirex@yahoo.com – questions, comments, ideas, flames, whatever! 

Thank you bunches to my current reviewers! You really make my life. You have no idea how excited I get when I see that "[FanFiction.Net] Review Alert!" subject in my inbox, lol!

Miss Auburn – thank you muchly! I'm glad you like it!

SamiJo – lol, I can't wait to see how my characters decide to react either =) it should be interesting … I have a really awesome Draco bitch-out scene planned.

jane riddle – thank you so much for the suggestions! I read through the chapter again and that really makes sense, thanks, I was starting to sound repetitive. 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling inspires my life. Sadly, I am not her. *deep sigh*

****

Chapter 3: Working Girl

Ginny tumbled into her seat at the end of the Gryffindor table, sitting as far as possible from her brother and his perfect friends. She could sense her ass of an ex-boyfriend looking her up and down, and Hermione shooting her disappointed glances every now and then. _Ron's probably told them._ Ginny just hoped they would keep it to themselves until the rest of the school found out on their own. 

Some nagging little voice inside her was crying, sobbing heedlessly at her former 'friends' complete rejection of her. Hermione's disappointment was the most unbearable. Ginny winced a little and quickly buried the voice. _It wasn't true anyway. Right?_

The sorting went quickly, and after a very lonely dinner, Ginny stood up in an empty Great Hall and slung her bag over her shoulder. Shuffling her feet, she slowly made her way to the doors. She wanted to postpone her entrance to the Gryffindor common room for as long as possible, not wanting to face the potential pain and the disturbingly superficial memories. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned into the hall outside the Great Hall - walking towards her was the plump, motherly figure of Madame Pomfrey. Ginny had never seen her anywhere but the hospital wing, and occasionally out on the quidditch field after an accident. She smiled weakly at the woman, fondly remembering her help and generous allowance of the use of her hospital lab last year.

"Virginia Weasley! So good to see you dear!" Ginny found herself enveloped in a tight hug. She let out a few muffled giggles.

"It's good to see you too, Madame Pomfrey."

Madame Pomfrey pulled back and held Ginny's shoulders, sizing her up. She shook her head. "My, my, how quickly you young people change. I still remember the long months you spent in my wing after that whole, nasty, Chamber of Secrets affair."

Ginny grimaced, very unwanted memories running to the beck and call of those dreaded words.

"Yea, I've been in and out of the hospital wing since my first day at Hogwarts, I guess."

Madame Pomfrey chuckled and nodded. "That curse last year was one of the worst, I expect. Still can't believe Harry Potter did that to you."

Ginny changed the subject quickly. "So, do you think we could go over my responsibilities and such before school tomorrow? I know I have to start immediately; and I suppose I should know what I'm doing before I jump in head first." She grinned good-naturedly at the mediwitch.

Poppy Pomfrey beamed and launched herself into a full-out ramble as they made their way to the hospital wing. "Yes, yes, of course dear! Dear me, that _was_ what I came to get you for in the first place … it's going to be wonderful having you to help around! I still remember all those projects and newfangled experiments you were always coming to the hospital with last year." She sent Ginny a proud, radiant smile. "Perhaps you'll be able to help me with some of the medical research? I'm sure you'll enjoy it, all sorts of diagnostic filing, paperwork, potions recipes – right up your alley. Anyway, besides that sort of thing, you'll be here all those times Dumbledore told you about." Her brow furrowed a bit, and she pulled out a very crumpled schedule, nearly black with randomly placed scribbles. She looked up at Ginny apologetically. "Sorry, as I'm sure you'll find out, I'm don't do too well with time and that sort of thing. You lose track of it as a mediwitch – you know natural healers live to be nearly 500 years old, don't you?" She sighed. "Awfully long time if you ask me." She chuckled at Ginny's disbelieving expression. "We'll talk more about that later, but I do have a hunch you're one of us." Madame Pomfrey nudged her apprentice playfully. "Let's see … I'll try not to pull you out of class too often, but sometimes I really feel like I could use extra help – it'll be splendid to have someone to call if things get particularly busy, or dangerous. Twice the magic is always better than a single portion.

"Oh goodness! I've so much to teach you. But we'll have time for that later …" She strode through the swinging hospital wing doors purposefully and turned to Ginny with excitement written all over face. Ginny suppressed a laugh – but it really was wonderful to see someone so passionate about her work. She eagerly followed as the witch led her down the sterile halls to her office. "Ready for the tour, then?"

Ginny stumbled into the Gryffindor common room nearly two and a half hours later, her mind brimming with medicine, hospital charts, lists of Hogwarts students and their medical issues, and of course, her new, frightening schedule that lurked relentlessly in the background of her mind.

She stepped into the low light of the common room and inhaled deeply, sucking in thousands of memories and thousands of misplaced loyalties. Her eyes nearly brimmed over with the recollection of the treachery she had experienced in this room – Gryffindors may be loyal and brave, but not always necessarily to the right cause or for the right purpose.

She tossed her hair and strode to the center of the common room, running her finger down the list of assigned dormitories and roommates. Aha, _Weasley, Virg_ - - it was then that she noticed the common room was unnaturally quiet. Everyone was dead still, and staring. At her.

_Shit_.

Ron was leaning against the fireplace, arms folded and a smug look on his face, as if to say, 'Maybe now you'll come to your senses.'

Eyes bored into her from all sides of the room, and she repressed a furious scream.

_Shit, shit, shit._

It hadn't even been four hours since she had stepped off the Hogwarts train, and the whole school knew.

"We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view. Once again, Parvati, I don't give a fuck!" Ginny glared at the girl. "I love the healing arts – you of all people should know that. At least I'm not afraid of stepping towards my dream – or dealing with the shit life doles out. Bravery – remember that? Little thing Gryffindors are supposed to know about?"

Parvati eyed her snottily and strode off, calling over her shoulder, "Whatever, Nurse Ginny," as she tittered away with her little band of clones. 

Ginny collapsed against a nearby wall and clutched her books to her chest. This was quite possibly the worst day of her life. It had been like this non-stop since six-thirty A.M. – no one had been exempt from the merciless teasing routines, it seemed everyone felt the need to add their personal thoughts about her life. She felt incredibly alone, and incredibly pissed. Glancing at her watch, she whined softly as she realized she still had an hour of Trelawney before she could get away to the very place everyone was berating her for.

She pulled herself up from the wall and was marching down the hall when she felt strong hands grab her waist. She groaned inwardly. This was the worst – the cracks about her "needing extra cash" hadn't stopped all day. Truly, she hadn't aware the guys were interested in her at all until today – was that good or bad?

"Hey babe. Working girl, eh? Wanna work me out?"

Ginny turned in disgust and pried a lustful Blaise Zabini from her waist. "Only if it involves working you out of my life, Zabini. Get your filthy paws off of me!" 

He grinned and pulled her closer. "Oo, I like it when you talk dirty."

"Fuck you, Zabini. Get the hell off of me, or I'll hex you into next week." Her eyes were flaming with animosity.

Zabini backed off. "Whatever, woman." He jiggled his hand by his ear in the classic 'call me' gesture, and walked away laughing.

Ginny felt that she would have been entirely justified in slaughtering him.

Fuming, she turned and stalked back down the hallway.

"Well, well, well, what _do_ we have here?" an all too familiar voice drawled at her.

Professor Trawlaney's class was waiting for their teacher beneath the ladder up to her room, and the foyer beneath the low ceiling was crowded with sixth and seventh year students all simultaneously trying to avoid Virginia Weasley.

Ginny cursed beneath her breath. _Of all people_. She knew she was going to have to face him at some point today – she just really wasn't in the mood right now.

"What Malfoy, still a little _blinded_ by your own stupidity?"

Draco stepped forward and laughed humourlessly. "No, Weasley, I was just marveling at the new low you've somehow managed."

Ginny glared at him, daring him to continue.

"Oh, you know. This whole – _nurse_ thing. For a couple seconds I thought maybe you actually wanted to, oh, say, work towards doing something with your pathetic life. Then I realized it was just because old daddy dear hit rock bottom and can't afford to send his own kids to school anymore." He casually walked over to her, running a finger down the sleeve of her fading robe. "Tsk, tsk, weasel, they let you show up for work like this?"

"You'd never know, would you ferret? You've had someone to wipe your ass and spoon feed you since day one."

Draco's eyes darkened, but he replied flippantly, "Hmm, but you know, the fates choose wisely. They don't let the stupid people get their grimy, muggle-loving hands on money us _wizards_ use for the greater good." He shook his head slowly. "Not that you'd know what to do with it, you've probably never seen more than a couple of sickles at a time, have you weasel?"

"If you want to know what the Gods think of money, you prat, just look at all the people They gave it to," she spat back, looking him up and down with obvious disdain.

Malfoy glowered dangerously and took a step forward, staring down at her. 

"What did you say, weasel?"

"I said you have your aristocratic, snobby head so far up your ass you should consider putting a glass plate in your belly button so you can see what the rest of the world is on about from time to time."

Malfoy was livid. Ginny grinned, she could nearly see him bubbling in restrained fury.

Ginny coughed loudly and waved a hand between her and Malfoy's nearly touching faces. "Jeez, nice cologne Malfoy. Must you marinate in it?"

Draco jumped back instinctively and stared angrily at her, his eyes burning into hers.

"Just remember who's serving who here, Weasley."

She snorted. "_Serving_? Who the hell said anything about serving? You come anywhere the near the hospital wing and I still wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole, even if you were bleeding to death." She paused, thoughtfully. "You know, a slight rearrangement of your facial features probably wouldn't be a bad thing, though."

He laughed openly now. "Oh come off it, weasel, we all know you're drooling over my stunning good looks. No need to be so obvious about it." He turned his head an assumed a 'sexy' stance, gloating over the now growing crowd.

Ginny just looked at him, highly amused. "Such a modest boy." She smiled at the eager onlookers. "With so much to be modest about."

The throng of students laughed loudly, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike.

Draco silenced them all with a glare before turning sweetly back to Ginny. 

"Weasley, you and every other girl at this school fantasize about me. I know. Don't deny it. I'm the answer, and I'm fully aware of it." He smiled smugly. His conceit had no match; it was obscene. Ginny noted in disgust the crowd on his side of the foyer consisted mainly of swooning third year females.

She scoffed, waving a disinterested hand. "If you're the answer, Malfoy, it must have been a damn stupid question."

Malfoy was getting pissed now. He had been enticed at first by her fiery attitude and defiant nature, but this was just pushing it too far. A few of the ditzes around him giggled ignorantly.

He smirked at her, hoping he hadn't lost his cool. "Whatever, Weasley. I suppose you have to get used to wanting the unattainable. A Malfoy would never touch scum like you anyway." He looked down his nose at her contemptuously. "Your family's so poor, I bet you fight with your brothers about whose turn it is to take the trash _in_."

Ginny's eyes flashed. "It's better than taking the trash _out_ to Voldemort, you pompous bastard."

He stepped towards her again, eyes gleaming menacingly. "Knowing who to serve and what to do to get what you want is the name of the game, you stupid Gryffie. I'll give you some free advice, though - I'd think twice about working at Hogwarts. I'll make your life living hell. Don't you think it'd be easier just to melt into the woodwork and relish your poverty in private somewhere?"

"If I want the advice of a retard, I'll slap you on the back of the head and wake up that little peg legged hamster that operates the drool-powered waterwheel of thought in there. Until then, you can just sit in the corner and wait until I either speak to you or spit at you, got it fuckwit?" Ginny snapped. She had had enough of this.

Draco stared at her open-mouthed.

"Problem, Malfoy?" She smirked. "Sarcasm is just one more service we offer."

She turned and stomped down the hallway, deciding against Divination. She was in no mood to receive morbid warnings about her future. 

Once she was safely out of sight, Virginia let a tear slip down her cheek. It had come to this – her fellow housemates and former friends had disowned her, and Malfoy's words cut her down like they never had before. She wiped the moisture away angrily and threw herself into the hospital wing – her very own, self-approved hell.

Malfoy sat at the back of Professor Trelawny's classroom, angrily fuming over letting the little wildcat get the last word. Furiously thinking about what she had said – and how goddamned true it was. Quietly wondering why he couldn't just admit it and segregate himself from everything that haunted him.

Worriedly speculating if there was any chance Virginia Weasley would find out …

And angrily pondering the fact that the little temptress had him in desperate need of some 'alone time.' She looked damn fine when she was all worked up.


	4. Chapter 4: Bittersweet Existence

A/N: I'm so pleased with the way that last chapter turned out. I just re-edited it and uploaded new content; the changes aren't very visible, just little things, but reread if you're so inclined. Keep reading please! I have no idea when the romance will start really heating up, these things are rather hard to predict … but I can't let them get too comfortable with eachother too soon, right? If you think otherwise … check out that review button!! Woooowww … I think you should click it.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! Just a little teaser for next update: I'm pretty sure Ginny is gonna discover that deep, dark secret Draco's hiding from everyone. *knowing smile*

And for everyone's information, I know it's totally o.o.c. for Ron to be shunning her, it seems like he's digging his own grave, eh? Well, there's a certain filthy lie that will come to light very soon … if you've any ideas for the revenge I can assure you Ron will deserve, email me. (xangelicfirex@yahoo.com) Or any other ideas, for that matter. Or … you could review!! *huge toothy grin*

lina – I know! Sadly, I really can't dish it out that fast in person, either … took me a little thinking and the consultation of some old childhood ghosts to come up with some of those lines. I think we should take smartass lessons from Ginny. She's so cool. 

sabacat – thanks for reading! I hope it stays that way =)

jane riddle – hehe my very first repeat reader! Thanks millions for sticking with the story! I have plenty more shit talk in store, have no fear. 

fernanda – thank you for reading and reviewing!

GEmory – thank you sooooo soooo much for your long reveiws. As you realized in your last review, I certainly do have something in store. Mwahahaha. You shall discover soon enough … And yes, I agree entirely with you – Ginny is going to be miles ahead of everyone else when she graduates, which she actually realizes and accepts for the first time in this chapter.

ash44 – ditto to GEmory's shoutout up there. There's a certain dirty lie Ron's been telling … can you tell I'm not a real Ron fan? Anyhow, that'll come to light in either the next chapter or the one after, and it'll make it infinitely easier for Ginny to deal with all the crap everyone's giving her … and plus, I'm toying with the idea of Revenge on Ron. Any ideas? Feel free to email me or review with them.

Laura – thanks darlin! Keep reading and let me know what you think … *blushes at unnecessary compliments* I love getting reviews – you're so sweet!

Darcy16 – omg! I'm in someone's favourites! *huge grin* I love you! Hehe thank you … and here's the next chappie, as promised. 

And of course, Ilana, my love. Where would I be without you? I wouldn't have met my soulmate *cough draco malfoy cough* or even have ever _read_ Harry Potter! You're awesome. Your reviews and messages totally brighten my day.

Allright, allright I know, I'm getting carried away. On to chapter 4!

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. (*sob*)

****

Chapter 4: Bittersweet Existence

Ginny smoothed the crisp white sheets over the last bed and flopped down on top of the pillows, staring up at the sterile white ceiling of the hospital wing.

It had been a very interesting week, to say the least. Ginny was absolutely exhausted, yet to her everlasting surprise, quite content. She now knew that the first couple weeks would be the hardest, as her shifts were a combination of training and actual care. Her head was swimming with potions recipes, new healing charms, bizarre accidents, and proper diagnosis and paper-filing protocol. Ginny had been gobsmacked to enter the enormous room Madame Pomfrey fondly referred to as her 'Paper Room.' What an understatement. Deep beneath Hogwarts, the Paper Room was a giant warehouse of filing cabinets filled with every medical record of every student and every accident that had ever occurred at Hogwarts. Ginny had spent the better part of her evenings there this week, and when she had emerged this morning her eyes felt blinded by the sunlight.

But, she was strangely happy. She was learning so much, and Madame Pomfrey's training felt more like a trip to Hogsmeade than work. She really did love learning about healing techniques; it enthralled and satisfied her. And then, of course, the work itself satisfied her – from the gratification in comforting a homesick first year to the delight in curing a befuddled Neville Longbottom before Madame Pomfrey figured out what was wrong. The boy had had two rather interesting Potions classes that week, one of which resulted in a lovely set of ivory horns growing out of his head. 

She had been able to lose herself in the job and forget about her social suicide for a while.

__

That's not all, though, an evil little voice whispered to her.

Ginny smiled sheepishly to herself as she pulled her knees to her chest and sunk into the feather pillows of the spotless hospital bed. She was, admittedly, self-satisfied in another way. The ferret hadn't ceased to mock her at every available chance, but she had somehow trounced him thoroughly every time they had an encounter. It nearly always ended with that imperceptible grimace of pain on Malfoy's face that Ginny had learned to recognize … at first she had been shocked. Was Malfoy really hurt by her words?

She soon determined this was not the case. As soon as the wince passed, he would bite back a sharp retort and abruptly leave – or stumble away, it seemed to her. She couldn't quite pinpoint the problem … it sort of bothered her, but at the same time his repeated defeats were a definite confidence booster. There were a few third year Ravenclaws holding a betting pool on the outcome of their various arguments – and she was leading at least 6 to 1.

Something about his weird behavior bothered her, but she pushed it out of her mind for the moment. She needed to focus on the good. Not Malfoy, not her brother or the strange way he was treating her … not Harry, not anyone. Just the task at hand.

Ginny dragged herself up off the bed and absently smoothed the sheets again, walking over to where Madame Pomfrey was dissecting some newly harvested mandrakes. 

"Can I help you with that?"

Poppy beamed and slid one of the dead creatures over to her. "Thank you, dear. This _is_ such a tedious job."

They worked in silence for a while, Ginny forcefully not looking down at the body her hands were mechanically working. Mandrakes were one of the few things that bothered her about this field.

"So, love, tell me about your classes and such. Any new boys sniffing around?" 

Ginny rolled her eyes and elbowed the old woman goodnaturedly. In the space of a week, Madame Pomfrey had proven herself a steady presence and reassuring friend. They soon fell into light conversation about the painfully obvious lack of romance in Ginny's life, and of Ginny's worries over schoolwork and scheduling. Poppy wasn't much of help here, but agreed to let Ginny bring her books to the hospital every now and then so she could work during the lulls in patient inflow.

The conversation soon turned to Ginny's patent social rejection. Madame Pomfrey had found it quite amusing when two Gryffindors had hauled themselves into the hospital wing that week with black eyes and bashfully informed her that they were fighting over the infamous Weasley/Malfoy bet – but her bemusement soon clouded into motherly concern when Ginny sighed and stuffed a dead mandrake into the jar angrily. 

"Virginia, I know how hard it must be for you … especially at this age. I'm not trying to belittle your desire and need for friends … but honestly, if they don't accept you - challenges, weaknesses and all – they're not worth your time. You need someone who respects you, who understands what you're going through, but most of all, who understands your passion." She chuckled at Ginny's entertained face. "And no, I don't mean romantically. A friend should be all those things too. I'm ashamed to hear that no one in Hogwarts stands up to that character test."

Ginny pondered this. She supposed it was true … still, it didn't make up for the fact that she was entirely alone in the world without this old mediwitch. Somehow though, it made it more bearable. She smiled ruefully – it always made her feel better to envision herself as superior to others. Her brother's tormenting words echoed in her mind – _You should have been sorted into Slytherin! _ She pushed the thoughts of her mind and refocused on her boss and friend.

"And you know," Poppy was adding thoughtfully. "they'll all be envious when you graduate with honours, scholarships to the best healing schools in England, and a two-year hands-on internship. You'll be on your way to big money before they've even wetted their feet in the real world."

Ginny cocked her head at the words. _True._ She smiled.

"You know Madame Pomfrey, I never thought of it that way. Thank you."

Pomfrey smiled broadly. "Of course dear. It's only the truth. And you can call me Poppy, I think we should be at the same level if this whole assistant thing is going to work out." She winked at the young witch playfully.

They laughed together and went back to work pensively for a few minutes.

Ginny broke the silence hesitantly. 

"You really think I'll get a scholarship?"

"EXCUSE ME?!" Ginny screamed at the bored-looking Potions master. "You're giving me a bloody detention because Harry, who's sitting _across the room_ from me, spilled _his_ potion?" _What the fuck?_

"That's right, Miss Weasley," Snape drawled. "And twenty more points from Gryffindor for talking back." He smiled at her condescendingly.

Ginny felt her classmates looking at her, and realized she must look ready to kill. She felt it too. This man was the most filthy, greasy, lying, evil snake that ever had the dishonour of crawling the earth. She glared at him with pure, unadultered hatred, feeling the anger seeping out of her pores.

She had done _nothing! _ She had been the nearest scapegoat, and had been totally unjustified in blaming her for distracting Harry with her "distasteful red hair and altogether too small robes." What the bloody hell? If she was distracting Harry, surely he had noticed that the rest of the males in class weren't paying attention either?

She sucked in a deep breath and harnessed herself back from pouncing on this abhorrent excuse for a human. "Professor Snape," she began coolly. "My clothes and hair have nothing to do with this. I can't believe you're giving me detention for something I didn't even _do!_ I should report you to Dumbledore or something!" Ginny sensed she had crossed the line, but she didn't care. This asshole needed to someone to tell him off.

Snape raised an oily eyebrow at her. "Miss Weasley, as you have so aptly demonstrated for us just now, someone needs to put the working girl back in her place." He sneered at her and spun back around to his desk, black robes billowing out behind him. 

Ginny's hands twitched at her wand, summoning her soaring anger back from the ceiling of the dungeons. 

"Shut _down,_ Weasley." Ginny shut her eyes, assembling all her patience as Malfoy's sarcastic leer hit her. 

She heard the familiar laughter of her fellow Gryffindors in the back of the classroom. They were laughing with the Slytherins? Just how far had she sunk? She lost it.

Virginia jumped up from her seat and snapped at Snape, "Professor, I'm sorry, but I have bigger and more important responsibilities than humouring your need to elevate yourself above your own students. If you wish to press things, I'll take it to Professor Dumbledore."

She flicked her wrist, and the group of Gryffindors all clutched at their throats simultaneously. She stifled a giggle and then stalked towards Malfoy, eyeing her next victim. Her tight violet robes clung to her curves, and she made sure to swing her hips seductively as she approached he desk where he was leaning back with a delighted look on his face.

"What was that, ferret?"

Before he could open his mouth to answer, she spat, "Hmm? Were you just saying how you can't fight without running to your dear teacher? Or were you saying that your puerility rivaled a three-year old's? I'd have to agree. You have some serious maturing to do, Malfoy." She looked him up and down arrogantly.

His eyes darkened and he opened his mouth again, but once again she cut him off.

"And no Malfoy, sorry, a hardon does _not_ count as personal growth."

Crabbe and Goyle stood up stupidly, sensing that this was where their bodyguarding instinct was supposed to kick in. Ginny shook her head scornfully.

"I'd insult you too, but you're not bright enough to notice."

She strode out of the room triumphantly.

__

Bastards. She tried not to think about how much trouble that little stunt would get her in. Maybe they would just take a hundred points or so off Gryffindor. Ginny smiled gleefully. That would be absolutely splendid. She was slowly starting to hate those self-centered, 'brave hearted' pricks. You do one thing that actually adhered to Gryffindor code and you're banished from them forever. 

Whatever. Yea, it hurt like a bitch, but she reassured herself with the comforting thought of Malfoy blustering in his seat.

When Ron finally got his voice back after his sister hexed him (_hexed _him! His own sister!), he wondered if he had been right to do what he did. He had thought that surely she would fight against this whole job thing harder… luckily none of the bad renown had bounced back to him. Yet. 

Maybe it was time to take more drastic measures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: oooo, that Ron. I knew he was a bad egg. Anyway, let me know what you think…

And would you check that! _5 pages, baby!_ hehe …

I'm not sure if I got the whole mandrake process right, please feel free to correct me … I can't remember if they dissect them or capture their screams. Email me – xangelicfirex@yahoo.com 

Thank you! I love you all! I'd love you even _more_ if you pushed that lonely lil review button down there! 


	5. Chapter 5: Disturbing Realizations

A/N: *smiles sheepishly at reviewers*

Hi….

I know; I'm sorry, it's just … I have exams … and …. Yea … excuses, excuses. Anyway, I'm finally here! I couldn't keep myself from it anymore!

I have soooo many ideas for this fic, so far I have it planned out till chapter 18. I know it may feel like it's slow-going, but I can't take them out of character and just have them fall madly in love with eachother at first sight … hope all you impatient ones understand. Cool concepts and exciting drama ahead … lol I feel like that guy who's the voice of movie previews.

But …. WOW! You guys are so amazing! I have _31_ reviews, count 'em, _31_!!! Thank you soooo much! I feel so loved *contented smile*

Rewrites for Chapter 4 are up … on to shout outs.

sabacat – yea, Ginny rocks my world. She's so awesome, hehe. I really could use that hex every now and then … damn Gryffies.

Gemory – thanks again for all your awesome reviews and ideas … I have dark, dark plots forming in my mind *twisted grin* And yes, I'll be explaining the whole natural healer concept soon

Laura – your review is so awesome! Thank you so much *puffs up chest proudly* I hope I continue to meet my own standards, lol. You totally made my day.

Aliesha – thanks for reading!

knot2be - *mwahaha* it is revealed here … in this chapter…. Ready for it?

ash44 – lol that's so amazing!! I really think I might do that. What do you all think? Have Ron get hexed into thinking he looks normal when he's really wearing a hot pink miniskirt and fishnets? Hahahaha lmao … that would be hilarious. I don't want to steal it if it's someone else's though … thanks for the tip! You're one of my cool repeat reviewers *huge grin* thanks so much!

Silver Wolf - *blushes* thanks so much! That last fight scene was a tough one to write… I'm so glad you liked it 

Americasweetie – oh my … don't get me started on the sexiness of draco … mmm … hot, blonde Slytherin sex God. Why … why do I have to fall in love with a fictional character?? lol anyways thanks for you comments! You're so sweet!

jane riddle – haha you're the only person to comment on that 'hard-on' line! It was my favourite! *smiles happily* and yup! You have the dubious honour of being my very first, repeat reviewer. ;o) thank you soo much!

Lavenderab – yea, I gotta agree with you on that one. My parents would probably become the object of one of those helpful little hexes if I lived in the magical world … ah well. Nice to dream.

OK! Y'all ready to find out just what it is Draco's hiding?

****

Chapter 4: Disturbing Realizations

Ginny massaged her temples gently, watching Professor Trelawny's spindly frame steal down the hallway. Ginny had been surprised to see the old clairvoyant three times this week … she was a victim of her own foresight, and was constantly in the hospital wing claiming if they didn't do something, she would die within the 48 hours. Madame Pomfrey had been visibly relieved when she was able to hand the Professor over to Ginny's patient care – the mediwitch had obviously been dealing with Trelawny for all too long. Unfortunately, Ginny was fed up with her as well and it had only been a week.

It was Sunday afternoon, and light poured in through the hospital wing's fading gothic windows to the reflective ivory tiles. Mountains of books and assignments surrounded her, but she couldn't seem to focus. Her mind wandered to the various accidents of the week. She had been quite dumbfounded to observe the clear majority of patients were teachers … various maladies, student curses, student pranks, and even physical accidents. It seemed Professor Sprout had particular trouble with stairs.

Ginny expected that casualties and afflictions would increase rapidly as the year progressed … school was still too fresh for students to be faking it quite yet. Madame Pomfrey had relayed some rather amusing stories on that subject.

A rustle by the door stirred Virginia from her reverie. She looked up through a stray twist of auburn to see something she really didn't feel like handling right now.

Malfoy.

She sighed and stood up, addressing him unceremoniously. "Ferret."

He gave her a pained smirk. It was the least confident she had ever seen him. "Weasel," he returned a little uneasily, struggling to compose himself. "You work today?" he asked smoothly.

Ginny was surprised. She had been expecting some vicious remark … was he … asking her something? In a non-sarcastic tone?"

"You sound reasonable, Malfoy ... Time to up the medication." She quirked her head at him curiously.

He winced a little and gave her an if-only-you-knew look. Ginny stared at him, disconcerted at this unguarded and non-satanic version of Malfoy. 

"Umm … yes, I work today. This is Madame Pomfrey's day off."

Draco's eyes grew wide, and he suddenly stomped his foot angrily and let out a loud string of curses.

"Malfoy! Watch it!" She nodded in the direction of a sleeping first year on the other side of the wing.

He rolled his eyes at her and limped over to a bed. Ginny began to wonder what was wrong … he looked to be in serious pain. This was quite strange, to say the least.

"You know Weasley, I'm really quite easy to get along with once you learn to worship me."

__

Ugh. **That **didn't last long. She gave him a piercing look.

"I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter, _Malfoy_."

Malfoy sighed deeply and flopped backwards onto the bed. "Oh fuck it Weasley. You aren't worth the breath I'm wasting to destroy your self esteem."

Ginny flexed her hands in restraint. Her skin grew hot, and she felt like pouncing on the arrogant moron and ripping out whatever part of him that was in so much pain. If he thought she was going do _anything_ to help him, he had another thing coming.

Draco let his body fall into the cool hospital sheets, his whole body screaming at him in torment. He forced it to be quiet, letting a chilling numbness take over as he schooled his face into a bored glare at the impassioned redhead above him. He clapped a hand over his forehead and wondered what the hell he was going to do. Worry flooded through him anew as he contemplated for the millionth time what he would say if faced with this very situation. He swore lightly under his breath.

"MALFOY!" Ginny bellowed at him. He rubbed his ear and scowled at her.

"Great Merlin, chill out Weasley. I'm trying to figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to do." Ginny opened her mouth to chastise him further, but flung her hands up in exasperation and stalked over to Pomfrey's desk. 

Despite the pain racking his body, Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from her ass as she left his side.

Ginny raged over to the desk and spun around, leaning against the icy metal as she surveyed Malfoy. Another grimace passed over his face. Even if he was being an asshole, he certainly seemed to be an asshole in pain. 

He closed his eyes and let out a hoarse whisper. "Tell me again where Pomfrey is?"

Ginny's brows furrowed in confusion. Just what exactly was going on here? She had never seen Draco Malfoy like this … Draco Malfoy, strong, confident, Slytherin god. What could possibly be wrong?

She stood up from the desk and walked brusquely back to his bed, her anger evaporating in the presence of a needy person. Even if it was the Ferret. She touched his pale forehead with the back of her hand, and he flinched visibly.

"Goddamnit Weasley! Don't touch me!" he quaked tangibly as she jumped back. He was burning up.

"Malfoy, what exactly is going on here?"

"Where the FUCK is Pomfrey, Weasel?"

"I told you! It's her day off! I have Sundays now!"

Malfoy closed his eyes in defeat and for a moment, he looked so frail and helpless, Ginny thought he was going to cry. Ridiculous notion, of course. A moment later his mouth was open again.

He glared at her unkindly, obviously displeased. "Shit, Weasley. This is NOT supposed to happen. I can't come any other day except Sunday … people will be suspicious. Why does she have to take Sunday off, of all days? Was she even fucking thinking?" He turned his head a little too quickly and winced, resuming his quiet swearing.

Virginia Weasley didn't know what to do. She _really_ didn't know what to do, and she didn't like it. 

"Do you mind explaining yourself Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy turned back to her, cold laughter in his eyes. "Drop the nurse act Weasel. Obviously Poppy planned this … fuck her. I guess I'll just have to tell you."

Ginny's mouth fell open in shock, first at the disrespect of her only friend. Then she realized … _since when has Draco Malfoy been on first-name basis with Madame Pomfrey?_

He took another intolerant sigh. "Sit your ass down, Weasel."

Ginny, too bewildered to do otherwise, promptly sat down on the adjacent bed. 

Draco struggled to a sitting position, and in a rush of motherly instinct Ginny reached to arrange the pillows behind him. He gave her a strange look.

Ginny blushed and looked at him hesitantly.

When she met his eyes, their silver depths were boring into hers. They seemed to be reading her very soul. Everything inside her shrieked at her to tear herself away, protect the most secret and dark places that he seemed to have such easy access too. But her eyes were locked to his, hypnotized in their engaging grasp. He studied her, evaluated her, and slowly Ginny came to realize … trusted her. 

In surprise, her sharp eyes found a slow trickle of nervous perspiration curving its way down Malfoy's platinum hairline.

But he didn't waver. Never taking his eyes off of her, he began slowly.

"Listen, Weasel, you're the last person I want to tell about this. But as you can see, I really need help right now, and you obviously can't help me until I tell you what's wrong. Damn Pomfrey." His eyes darkened dangerously; the familiar glint reflected in her eyes and she shivered unconsciously. He drew a sharp breath. "I really can't come here any other day except Sunday. The situation is really … compromising." He paused for effect.

Ginny let out an exasperated sigh. "Great! You've now gotten plenty of exercise jumping to conclusions, pushing your luck, beating around the bush, and dodging the issue. Dammit, Malfoy, get to the point!!"

Malfoy looked at her in amusement. "I'm getting there Weasley, I'm getting there." He gave her one last penetrating look before spitting it all out in one, desperate, intense phrase. "Two years ago my father cursed me."

Ginny had suspected it. It was one of Hogwarts darkest rumours; the torment of Draco Malfoy, but no one ever approached him about it. _So he was abused._

She nodded absently, not catching on to the gravity of his voice at first. She was just beginning to wonder what kind of curse would have him struggling to sit up and spilling his soul to his family's arch-nemesis when he fumbled with his wand.

Malfoy mumbled a few words under his breath and pointed the wand at his chest.

__

A glamour charm, Ginny thought in her last moment of rational thought. 

Suddenly, like water pouring over an open wound, Ginny had the distinct impression that Malfoy was … crumbling. Falling away. A silvery waterfall cascaded down his body, and what was left behind caused Ginny to choke back a sob. And Ginny wasn't one to show her emotion easily.

Malfoy had transformed into an emaciated, deathly pale and frightened young boy that stared out at her from hollow, sunken eyes. His face was covered in bruises, and a slow trickle of blood drew a line from his temple to chin. Scars decorated his visage like war medals, yet somehow in a much less honourable fashion. Beneath his thin black robes she could sense the emanating pain – her body was almost flung back at how strong the vibes were. Moments before, she had only been faintly aware – Ginny now realized the young man was in excruciating pain, and she knew what she was feeling was only a taste, a moment of his eternal suffering. How was he doing it? His face showed no signs of anguish - only hurt, fright, and the superior look of one who is weak but in desperate denial of it.

Large purple bruises dotted his arms and legs, and there was blood everywhere … soaking through his robes, drenched in his hair, in the whites of his eyes. The contradiction of paradoxes in her mind was unbearable – the proud, arrogant, and yes, admittedly sexy Slytherin tormentor she knew and hated was gone … yet at the same time, still there. He was exposed, the very core of his soul disquietingly naked and open to her criticism and pity. What was she supposed to do?

She couldn't take it. His agony reverberated off the walls of her being, and she fell to her knees, tears pouring down her cheeks. He didn't need to say anything. What he was going through … inhumane didn't even begin to describe it. She still had no idea what it was … it didn't matter. She swore right then and there that she would do everything in her power to rid him of the dark, menacing presence that she could feel all over him … and that she would stop the blood. Stop the pain. Ever fiber of her being longed to heal him.

__

Natural healer, Poppy had said. Ginny had doubted it until this moment. As emotion coursed through her veins, she felt her mind kicking her emotional backside for being sympathetic to _Malfoy_, of all people! She should be laughing at his pain.

But she couldn't. 

Slowly, she rose above the torment he was feeling and looked up into his face, her eyes filled with horror. His head was turned away, and he spoke very slowly, his voice no more than a whisper.

"Fuck off Weasley, I don't want your goddamn sympathy."

Ginny choked. What could she say? She hated this! She rose uncertainly to her feet, her body shaking uncontrollably. She willed herself to be strong, to be practical and medical – or to at least stop the damn trembling.

"Malfoy … you have to tell me what's going on. Now." A warm tear trickled down her cheek.

His eyes refused to meet hers – the impervious confidence had been wiped away with a single flick of the wand. His perfect blonde hair fell messily around his vacant gray eyes. Hoarsely, he made a final attempt at explaining.

"Two years ago, my father placed this curse on me. It's called the Curse of Ruledour Nainec … the curse of past pain. Every pain, every hurt - emotional or physical - that I've ever experienced manifests itself regularly. Some are triggered by certain memories, smells, sounds and sights. I relive it all, everyday." He turned to her, his hollow eyes challenging her. "Don't look at me like that Weasley! This is necessary! It's a training device! It's my father's last kindness to me … he's raised me to be strong. I have to do this. I have to become strong." She could feel the pain ringing in his soul. He had decidedly cut short the details of his suffering. "Of course, you wouldn't understand. Weasleys know nothing of power." He snorted weakly.

The insult made it possibly for Ginny to slowly reconnect the old Draco with this new one. 

"You know nothing of pain. And no, there's no cure … my father has to lift it." He stiffened. "And he won't do that until I have completed my education and training to his satisfaction. So don't get any ideas."

Despite his words, Ginny could sense something else. Something unspoken, but more important than anything he had said verbally. She could see it in his eyes – a silent plea to help him; even though he wasn't allowed to articulate the words. He was dying. And he didn't know how to escape. She wanted to scream in outrage – no one deserves that kind of punishment! And for what? Nothing? _Training? _Pain doesn't train you … it hardens you. Whatever potential Draco Malfoy had had was slowly being drained out of him as the endless blood flowed.

She watched in alarm as a new wound opened and crimson regret spilled down Malfoy's neck. 

He must have seen her cringe and reach for her equipment, because he raised an arresting hand. "No, Weasley, it's ok. It happens all the time. I can't die from blood loss. That's not the purpose."

Ginny just stood there, numb from his pain and consumed with compassion.

"Do you mind? It's rude to stare," he muttered irritably. "Just get my file and the potion Pomfrey usually gives me. It helps for a while. That's why I come every Sunday, if you really must know, to get the reliever and to ensure that nothing life-threatening has happened over the course of the week." His tone was eerily ironic, yet at the same time deadly serious.

Virginia shook her head stupidly and muttered "Accio, file: Malfoy, Draco."

The file left specific instructions on where to find Draco's Relieving Potion. After administering it to him, she watched in fascination as he spent several long minutes reapplying his glamour charm. Soon, he was once again the disdainful, handsome and carefree Slytherin she was familiar with. He took a deep breath, and to her utter shock, stood up resolutely and walked through the door without a word.

Ginny collapsed to the bed and stared at the bloodstained sheets across from her. All she could imagine was the suffering, tortured soul that had been there only minutes before and was now walking through the halls of Hogwarts, unguarded and defenseless to the malice of the world. But when he had walked out, it had been as if nothing had ever happened. His proud, aristocratic air had returned, and his face was held in the perfect smirk that had bought him his reputation. No one would ever guess anything was wrong. So horribly wrong

A strangled sob escaped her again, and she scolded herself mentally. Now that he wasn't lying here, now that she couldn't feel his pain, it was all too easy to forget and look at Draco Malfoy in the light she always had.

But the bloodstained linen glared up at her, not letting her forget, promising horrible consequences if she ever did. 

She absentmindedly stripped the bed and carried the soiled sheets to Laundry. Her mind flickered back to the note that had been hastily pasted to the top of Malfoy's file – "Now you know. I'll talk to you about it later. It's important that you help him. He needs a caretaker in my absence. The Relieving Potion is …"

__

Needs a caretaker. She suspected she would be seeing a lot more of Draco Malfoy over the next year than she could ever possibly have wanted.

As he walked down the hall to the Prefect's Dormitories, Draco felt the cool fingers of the potion reaching through his limbs. A smidgen of assuagement flowed in his veins; the first relief since Friday when the pain had reached its predictably unbearable level. Draco hated Fridays.

Sundays were the only days to look forward to in his life, a miniscule step above the dregs of pointless existence. He wondered if she could even fathom how excruciating his summer had been.

But he wasn't really thinking about that.

For a few moments, all reason flew from Draco's mind. He didn't care that he had just told Ginny Weasley, the dirt beneath his shoes, his deepest and most haunting problem. He didn't care that the potion still hadn't quite set in. He wasn't worrying about why Pomfrey abandoned him, or why she left such curious yet subtly direct instructions for Ginny. He wasn't even fretting about what his father would say if he knew he was seeking help, something he often anxiously contemplated after his Sunday afternoon appointments.

No. All he could think about was that moment where she had touched him. For the first time in two years, he had felt an undeniable … tranquillity. The absence of pain was so alien to him, when she had touched his forehead it had hurt so much he had almost lost his breath. Pain to the point of numbness – and somehow she had taken it away in one simple touch.

He found his body craving that relief, begging for it with all he had, screaming at him to forget his backstabbing father's gods damned pride and run back to find that solace. That … peace. That quiet in the eye of his storm. 

How had she known how to get him there?

There was so much he hadn't told her – that Ruledour Nainec wasn't just a curse, it was a disease. That it was eating away at his insides every day, and he was powerless to stop it. It was one of the rare Krankefluchia strains – that bizarre mix between a magical disease and curse. Intuitively, he reached behind to the nape of his neck and fingered the wound that lay there beneath the wisps golden of hair. It was the only one that couldn't be hidden by his glamour charm.

His bane.

He hadn't shone her that either.

Somehow, he knew she would find out.

A/N: *waits expectantly* What do you think?

The Curse of Ruledour Nainec … awfully original if I do say so myself *bashful smile* _la douleur ancien_ means 'past pain' in French (for those that didn't know, French is my second langauge) and Ruledour Nainec is a rearrangment of those letters. There'll be more details on the curse … plus an interesting new twist introduced by *gasp* _Madame Pomfrey?_ in the next chapter.

Oh, and btw, Krankfluchia – _krankheit_ is 'curse' in German and _fluch_ is disease. Does it sound corny, or does it work? I couldn't think of another way to represent a deadly cross between disease and curse … it sounds ominous to me. Let me know what you think – xangelicfirex@yahoo.com. Or IM me on AIM at xfire Angeliquex

lol you have no idea how painfully difficult to refrain from using that line from Pirates of the Caribbean … "So there is a curse? That's very interesting…" I wanted to use that so bad!!

Click that review button! I know this is going to be a rather controversial chapter … tell me everything. Is it too corny? Unbelievable? Strange? Directionless?

much love to all my reviewers! The instant I finish my Chemistry exam next Tuesday (with some remote inkling that I haven't failed) I will update. However, if I failed, I forewarn you that I might go into deep mourning for a few weeks. Hopefully not though.

Review!


	6. Chapter 6: Twisted Explanations

A/N: *phew* Chemistry is _ over_. Finally! *yay for Jen!* I think I did halfway decent. Anyway. 

Wow … you guys are incredible. I really don't deserve _half_ the praise I got from that last chapter. You really are awesome! Yes, I mean _you_!

Ok, this is a pretty long chapter, hang with me though … I decided to unleash 2 secrets at once *mwahaha* Can you handle it? I'll have to end with a clyffie though. I can't be too nice.

Thanks again to everyone for your helpful reviews and awesome encouragement. *smiles happily* I feel so loved! 

Much thanks to:

old school rocker

BigRed2006

megghy

tay

Penny Shirley

Darcy16

dracomio

maggie

Americasweetie

Lady Cecilia

Laura – wow. There is no higher compliment. I have just been compared to _the _Joanne Kathleen Rowling. *bows and kisses Laura's feet* I love you! Thanks so much!

Jenalla – You're too kind! Thanks for supporting me on the doppel gänger of Draco … I'm not sure how well this would fly. I tried to keep the same character; but an abused child will feel the same pain as the next. Ok, I'll stop rambling, but thanks for reading! I'm so glad you like it =)

Angel Black1 – you are awesome. Simply awesome. You reviewed every single chapter! *huge toothy grin* thank you! And you're right, yes, this is my first fanfiction, but no, it's not my first writing. I'm an avid writer, as eager to write as some are to breathe. Thank you so much for all of your compliments! Two issues you brought up that I want to address: firstly, yes, I know, Ron really should be more oblivious than controlling. But one of his more obvious traits is that he's extremely loyal and protective, and I suppose I took a leap in equating that with pride. Anyways, as you find out in this chapter, he's too proud to let his sister work, and hence his stubborn refusal to accept it and forcing her to give it up. Hehe. Secondly, about the 6th and 7th year class mixes, that's not your fault at all, I really didn't think about it … I suppose I was just thinking along the lines of normal high schools, and how classes often have mixed age groups in them I could go back and fix that, because she's definitely in 6th year, but I'm too lazy. Let's just say Hogwarts mixes age groups in their standard classes as well. =) Alright anyway, thank you for all your support. I'm quite flattered.

Kiki – I'm so glad you like it! As for Ron's secret, it is divulged herein … And as far as Lucius being Minister and Dumbledore being Headmaster … let's just say he hasn't had need to remove him yet. *evil grin* Lucius' role will come into play further. He really can't oust Dumbledore without kicking up quite a fuss in Magical England, so he's got to have a bit of evidence first. It will come. 

Lily Bell – thanks for your review! Wow … adore… you're awesome. =) You mentioned that the plot was vaguely original … have you read something similar to it? The idea is entirely mine, but if you've read something similar please tell me; I don't want to infringe on someone else's story … thanks muchly!

DrEaMiNgOfDrAcO – haha, _is_ Ginny his cure? That is the question … I'm not going to tell you. But thank you so much for reviewing! Best g/d fic _ever_? Wow. *blushes beet red* It can't possibly be that good, lol, but thank you! 

Elena the Eccentric – I checked up on your comment after reading your review, and nope, Hogwarts isn't free. Remember how Harry went to Gringotts with Hagrid to get the money before enrolling in Hogwarts? That was for his supplies _and_ tuition. Again, the whole thing with the Gryffindors will be explained in this chapter, though I admit my darker side tends to emerge every now and then and spite them a little unjustly. lol, sorry, I can't control this =) Literary license. Aha … you're the first to inquire about Harry's curse. Have I wetted your appetite? hehe, all will be revealed in due time …

OffWhite – I'm so glad you like it! I looked for the series you mentioned, but couldn't find it … Thanks for the luck on finals, I can assure you I have needed every ounce. 

GEmory – my ever faithful reviewer! Thanks again for reading … is it too dark? You must be frank with me. I don't want this to be one of those angsty-lets-let-out-our-gothic-nature fics … there's a time and a place for those but right now I really don't feel like killing Draco. Sorry, that was sort of a random tangent … thanks for the review! I really appreciate the comment on her powers too … I was a little apprehensive about introducing them and exercising them so soon.

Ally - *grins widely* you have no idea how awesome it is that people are recommending my story. I feel all important, lol. I'm glad you like it!

jane riddle – my favourite reviewer! lol, I'm addicted to pirates of the carribean too *sheepish grin* writer at arms, I feel special. lol, anywho, thanks for reading&reviewing, hope you like this bit.

And lastly, Ilana, because she inspires my life. Your review is as always, so cool :-p haha you make my life. Happy birthday love! Here's your late birthday present. *gives ilana a big hug* And don't give me that 'can't find any criticism crap.' There's plenty!

Wow. I really need to tone down my shout-outs. I went back and just named all of you who just kind of left awesome praise =) Sorry, there's no room to pour out my love to all of you individually! Do you have any idea how happy it makes me to say that (there's no room for all my reviewers … heaven!)?

Anyway, on to the story. Keep reading and reviewing! 

Ok ok I know; it's time to admit that I'm not as creative as I pretend to be.

Disclaimer: I didn't do it! I swear! It's all J.K.'s fault!

Let's get this party started!

****

Chapter 6: Twisted Explanations

Draco screeched around the doors of the hospital wing and came to a sudden stop before the wide metal desk, long hands locked on muscular hips, breath coming in short gasps, and glaring at the unconcerned woman in front of him.

Four minutes ago he had been lounging lazily at his desk in Potions. There were only two classes he shared with the weasel – Divination and Potions. The whore had somehow gotten ahead in potions, damn her, and he had flunked out of 6th year Divination the year before for bitching out Trelawny when she told him his future offspring were doomed to be Hufflepuff. He hated that woman. 

So anyway, he now spent seven and half hours of his week staring at those luscious red curls. Draco cringed and shook his head clear of such sacrilegious thoughts. _Focus on the task at hand. Put every thing else out of your mind … the pain, the fear … the attraction_. 

Damnit, that wasn't part of the mantra.

As soon as the little vamp had sauntered into Potions, he had sauntered out to go to the, umm, loo. He couldn't risk her being here when he murdered Pomfrey.

Fine, not _murder_. But he was beginning to feel a bit murderous as he looked down at the ancient mediwitch who was calmly finishing her paragraph before sighing contentedly and setting the book down to crouch on its spine. Gracefully sliding her bifocals off the end of her nose, she gave Draco a placidly irritated look and said, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively, using every ounce of strength he had to refrain from tearing the old woman's eyes out. The rush from the potion yesterday was still fresh, and he felt as strong as he ever did these days. The dark side of his soul was laying out a very convincing argument as to the benefits of massacring the old matron on the spot. _But that would be exactly what Lucius would do, wouldn't it?_

Draco grimaced as a painful vision of his father reincarnated itself in his mind. He felt a burst of physical tension as his arm gave way to an old wound. He remembered that one. The first time his father had stabbed him. 

He cringed a little and shook it off.

"I demand that you obliviate that, that … _whore_, this instant. I cannot _believe_ you _set me up_ to tell her about it. I can't _believe_ it! I demand you erase it from her memory!" His shouts ebbed away the pain in his arm, and he gladly let the pain flow from the wound into his words. Pomfrey shot him a disapproving look.

Draco felt his spirits deflate. He was so alone. "I thought we had an agreement, Poppy." He tried to keep the betrayal and injury out of his voice, but he knew immediately he had failed. Madame Pomfrey's eyes clouded with that familiar comforting blue haze … strangely reminiscent of the green one he had witnessed in Weasley's eyes only the day before.

The woman bustled out of her chair and devoured Draco in a tight hug. "Oh Draco, I'm sorry … I have my reasons, I promise!"

Draco wrenched himself away from her and peered into her eyes, carefully hiding his amusement from the absentminded woman's tender heart. "Just tell me what the hell happened," he said sternly.

"Draco, dear, Gin -- Virginia is good for you. I've, umm …" She offered him a heart-warming smile. "I've been, umm, researching. Reading up a bit on some of the new, latest, umm, stuff about Ruledour." 

Draco raised a single pale, skeptical brow at her. Poppy was not one to know anything about the word 'latest' or to do any sort of 'reading up.' "Oh really?" he said, smirking.

She shot him a distasteful look. "Don't you look at me that way young man. I've led you through hell and back these last two years." Her naturally parental tone withered Draco instantly, his shoulders shrinking in the presence of the mother he never had. He rolled his eyes stubbornly and waited for more. "This new … thing… that I've read explicitly says that younger hands work wonders to subsiding the symptoms of a Ruledour victim. It's the, erm, contradiction of inconsistencies. You know, past and future. An old hag like me couldn't help you much in that respect." She winked at him playfully and then smiled enormously. She seemed very pleased with herself. A little too pleased?

It made sense. Still, he was highly doubtful – he had wasted valuable school time reading everything he could get his hands on about the Curse of Ruledour Nainec … and he had never once even seen a reference to any such theory. Nevertheless, he couldn't see any reason for Pomfrey to lie to him. She was an honest witch, even if she was a conniving one. She had been the only steady, unchanging and comforting entity in his life for nearly two and a half years now. Narrowing his eyes, he decided he would trust her. She had never given him reason not to.

He broke down and gave her a genuine smile. He needed someone who would just … understand him. Poppy had always been there. Defenses down, he submitted to her chatter.

Poppy beamed and acquiesced without a word. "There, see, I knew you would understand. Besides the fact that you are better tended by a younger healer, Ginny is full of compassion and skill – good ol' TLC, as we like to call it. She'll be better than medicine for you. Really. And she's more available! Any time you need her, plus all day on Sundays."

Draco waved his hands dismissively and scowled like a young child at its mother. "Back up, back up, back up. Firstly. Why the fuck would I _need_ Virginia Weasley? And help me? The wench gives me headache every time she enters my line of sight." A nearly immaterial strand of disappointment trailed through Pomfrey's eyes, but Draco caught it. "Secondly, you mentioned Sundays. Another intriguing aspect of this whole delightful situation." He clasped his hands in mock delight. "Of all bloody days to take off, you had to take _Sundays_. You know perfectly well I can't come _any other fucking day."_

He gaped in disbelief when Poppy chuckled. She usually scolded him for such ungentlemanly outbursts. "Really, Draco, you are such a case. You just have to trust me on this one." Her faced evened out solemnly, but there was a disturbing sparkle in her eye. Draco felt suddenly on guard. "Her hands will work wonders for you." She looked at him a little too meaningfully.

How could she possibly know?

Again, Draco's sub-concsious voice was yelling at him to demand to know what it was, exactly, about Ginny that put him at such ease. But the voice died in wake of his pride. He couldn't remember a time when it had ever won.

Something was bothering him though … why didn't he feel that cool relief when any one else his age touched him? 

Maybe it was because she was trained in healing arts. Yea, that was it. _Ugh, I have a headache_. He shook the misleading thoughts from his mind and reminded himself to trust Poppy. 

Draco looked at the mediwitch fondly. He really did love her. He let her squeeze his shoulders and continue to ramble, relishing the feeling of care and devotion that surged through her wrinkled fingers.

She was babbling about how wonderful the weasel was, how helpful it was to have an assistant, how much new research she was getting done, blah blah blah. Whatever. He would trust the little bitch for now. No matter how uncomfortable – or altogether too comfortable – it made him feel.

He really didn't have any other choice.

Ginny groaned in frustration. She could feel her hair tie slowly slipping out of place as she walked as fast as she could to the hospital wing. Slipping, slipping, slipping … damn. _There it goes_. Her wild curls exploded in their newfound freedom and sashayed their way across her back. She made an irritated noise in the back of her throat and pressed on, papers intermittently escaping the considerable load of books that filled her arms.

She collapsed at her desk and scooped her hair into a neat bun, only to find that she now had no hairtie. Cursing silently, she secured it with a nearby quill. Several tendrils promptly escaped and found a way to conveniently block her eyesight.

Virginia screamed in frustration and hurled a book to the floor. 

__

What is with you today? that infuriating little voice in the back of her head inquired innocently.

She rolled her eyes and let them flutter close. It was because of Draco. Every fucking time she had passed him today the breath had been knocked out of her, the pain was unbearably intense. 

But then why was she angry?

It wasn't because of the stupid Ravenclaws, outspokenly disappointed that they hadn't gotten a good verbal match today.

It wasn't even because Ron had actually_ laughed_ at her when he saw her doubled up in pain after Potions. 

It was because she couldn't do a damn thing about it.

He was the first person, ever, that she hadn't been able to heal, or at least get on their way to a cure. This really wasn't good. There _was_ no cure. Was she going to be this way for the rest of her life? 

She bristled visibly at the thought that her fate was now tied to Draco's. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She hated that boy. 

But then that familiar feeling of angst and compassion would wash over her again, and all she wanted was to take his pain away, even if it meant dying for him. Anything to ease his agony.

"I know exactly how you feel, dear. Dying to take away someone's pain is rarely necessary though, I can assure you, even for us Healers."

Ginny yanked her head up sharply. What the …?

Poppy appeared in the doorway of her office.

"How did you …?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed and looked at her with understanding eyes. "You really need to accept what I've been trying to tell you for a week now. You're a natural healer, Ginny. One of your inadvertent abilities is being able to read another natural healer's thoughts when you're both _in touch. _You know, that feeling you get whenever you feel needed?" The old woman paused. "Whenever you look into Draco's eyes?"

Ginny knew what she was talking about. It was almost as if part of her stopped and another part took over. Harry had once told her she became an entirely different person when someone was hurt – that her _eyes_ even changed colour.

She nodded sadly. "Yea, I suppose I can't deny it. You're always right. Natural Healer." She thought about this, and then eyed the witch warily. "But that's still pretty freaky. Wait … how were you _in touch_ when I was a couple seconds ago?"

Poppy took the chair next to hers and looked into her eyes. "Your pain for him is so palpable that I can feel it. Rare, that. You've taken it on when he's not even here. It threw me into gear when you weren't even physically hurt."

Ginny could see something else in the mediwitch's eyes though … satisfaction? _That_ didn't make sense. She shook it off.

"Poppy, I don't know what to do!" Angrily, she could feel her eyes filling with tears for the _n_th time in the last twenty-four hours. "I don't even really know what's wrong with him. But it bothers me so much … I don't understand!"

"I knew he wouldn't really explain it to you." Poppy exhaled patiently, sending Ginny a hopeful smile. "Ginny, you have to understand that Draco is very … reserved. He was quite," she winced a little. "… upset that I put him in a position to tell you about his curse. He asked me to obliviate you earlier today, even after I explained everything to him." The old lady sighed and refocused her wandering eyes on Ginny. "I had to. You are perfect for him – the youngest natural healer in nearly 150 years. A rare find. As soon as you leave Hogwarts, or as soon as anyone outside the school finds out, you'll be sought after from all sides of the magical world." She squeezed Ginny's hand protectively. "We'll keep you safe for a while. Anyway, what was I saying? Ah yes. I've been, umm, reading about this new thing from this new mediwizard over in, ummm … Russia, who says that victims of Ruledour are best tended by younger hands. Contradiction of the past and present and all that." She looked at Ginny hesitantly.

"Oh." Ginny's eyebrows lined delicately. "That makes sense. Ruledour .. Nainia? Something like that? It's past pain, right? I still don't know much about it … what is it, exactly? Malfoy was, like you said, really defensive."

"Ruledour Nainec. It's the curse of past pain. Everytime Draco encounters something that reminds him of anything that ever hurt him – _anything_, mind you – an old wound reopens. If it was physical, like a scrape when he fell down a tree when he was young, the scrape reforms itself. If it was emotional, like harsh words or blatant rejection, then his soul ... cracks, just a little bit. Those emotional wounds are the worst – they manifest themselves by eating away at his insides, his vital organs. The very first time he experienced an emotional reopening (early on in the curse, mind you), it triggered the disease. Every other time has only furthered the self-consumption that goes on within him every day. You know about Krankefluchia, don't you?"

Ginny nodded gravely, shuddering unwillingly. That deadly cross between a curse and magical illness – they were tokenly the worst tormentors and the most miserly forgivers. Cures were few and far between.

"Ruledour Nainec is a Krankefluche. The focal point is right at the base of his neck – are you well versed in that? Every Krankefluchia strain is trademarked by what's known as a _focal point_. Because the disease part only comes on after the curse is in place, the original curse marks you permanently because it's where the disease originates as well. The person who cursed him – Lucius, in Draco's case," The mediwitch's eyes misted over hatefully. "- therefore, leaves his mark at the place his wand touches to place the curse. That place is known as the focal point. Draco's is at the base of his neck, on his spinal column, in direct contact with his brain. For him, the pain is almost ten times worse because every time a wound is triggered, he relives the moment in his brain. The curse has very easy access to not only his soul and flesh, but his mind too. Next time he comes in, I'll have him show his FP to you. Quite a sight, especially if you've never seen one before."

Poppy's attitude became suddenly quite serious. "But on another note, Ginny dear, you can't try to argue with him about his father. Everything he knows tells him to step up to the 'challenge' his father has placed on him. He wants to live up to him, to prove something to him." She gave Ginny a pained look. "It's a child psychologist's nightmare. The boy will and has gone through any imaginable pain to gain his father's approval. But he never will achieve it - Lucius is insane. He won't let Draco go – he's a control freak. I remember him from his days at Hogwarts." Poppy shuddered again. "Evil man. But above all things, he's protective as hell of anything that belongs to him. He won't let Draco go until he becomes … him. An impossible standard." 

She sighed again. "So obviously dear, it's up to us to save him. We'll do it. You and I, I can feel it. You're good for him." Poppy gave Ginny one last squeeze and left her to her schoolwork.

__

Just as easy as all that. Ginny sat in shocked silence. Everything was coming together … the recurring grimaces, the attitude change, even the overall nastiness. Suddenly, she couldn't blame him. 

To her horror, she realized Draco Malfoy was in near constant pain.

She sure as hell hoped Pomfrey was right … because even if they couldn't do it together, Ginny felt with a renewed vengeance that she _would_ heal him, alone or not. It was quickly becoming her sole purpose.

Poppy Pomfrey rubbed her hands in glee. Limbaugh had been right! Dumbledore had been right! But most of all, Rhiannon had been right. Draco Malfoy was going to make it.

Draco had been her sole concern for nearly two and a half years now. Right after that one fateful Christmas break had ended …

She wanted him to be healed just like any other natural healer would, but her need for his healing was nothing compared to Ginny's. It was true.

They _were_ soulmates.

A few weeks ago, Poppy had paid a visit to an old friend who had offered to give her a reading. She didn't normally indulge in such things, they were rarely reliable. Most self-acclaimed seers were about as dependable as Trelawny. But Rhiannon had made a very disturbing prophecy – she had slipped into a hypnotic state and proclaimed that Draco Lucius Malfoy was linked to the next much-anticipated and long-foreseen natural healer. She would not only be able to ease his pain, but over time she would "ease his spirit." Poppy really didn't like abstract, flighty words like that, but she imagined that it meant either Draco's soul would be eased before he died, or his flesh would overcome the curse somehow - with Ginny's help.

By pulling a few strings, Poppy had insured that Draco and Ginny would have plenty of time to discover they were destined for each other. Now she just had to take a step back and let the Fates take over. 

__

I see the next Healer in his future. Her hands will placate his pain. Rhianonn's words echoed pleasantly in her mind. At first she had been worried; how on earth was she going to find the next natural healer?

One look at Virginia when she stepped out of the Great Hall this year had wiped away all her fears. She was of age, too. 16? About the time Poppy herself had discovered her potential.

Perfect.

They didn't seem too infatuated quite yet, but that would come with time. She always had enjoyed playing matchmaker. And now lives hung in the balance of this match's success? Rather exciting, actually. 

She still couldn't believe they had both bought the 'younger hands' thing. _Contradiction of inconsistencies_. Poppy chuckled happily. That was a good one, you had to admit. 

A/N: Ok, this is crap. I'm sorry. I really don't know what happened… I'll do rewrites soon, I promise. The ideas were good, I swear! lol, it wrote itself very differently in my head. Oh well. This will have to do. Tell me what you think.

~angelic fire~

xangelicfirex@yahoo.com

AIM: xfire Angeliquex


	7. Chapter 7: Softened

A/N: I know; I'm a horrible person. 18 whole days. Did you survive? *cheeky grin*

I feel very invigorated. I really will try to update more frequently now; this story has become a pet passion of mine. 

Much much much much MUCH thanks to all of my incredible, amazing, splendiferous, marvelous, phenomenal reviewers. It's all because of you! Each and every one of are so, so awesome. Thank you so much for believing in me and my story. Your reviews are priceless; it's so edifying to know I'm loved. *sigh* And I'd like to thank the academy …

lol, I won't go all mushy, but I really do love you all. It's just that… I've been getting complaints my shoutouts are far too long *sheepish grin* I can't help it! But I do need to tone it down, so I'm just gonna list y'all from now on and answer specific questions … but it doesn't mean I value you any less! You're soooooooooooooooooo amazing! The lifeblood of this story!

AmericasweetieNichole Malfoy

GEmoryinfernodweller

Angel Black1Off White

Penny ShirleyLa Insane Freak

Big Red-2006Charmed-Goddess-07

sabacatJane Riddle

tayTarynMalfoy88

Babs5

*Special thanks to my florida homies, Laura and Ilana!

Ok. Moving on. I'm holding a poll: I really think it's too cliché for Ginny to _be_ Draco's cure, ya know? "Find true love's first kiss" and all that crap … but a lot of people seem to think that's where this is headed. Just for curiosity's sake (no promises!) email me or put in your review whether you think that's a good idea or not. If not, I shall continue and just have our Potions genius, Miss Weasley, devise her own, resourceful cure for Drakie dear.

I'm almost done, I promise! *Disclaimer* Everything is J.K. Rowlings'. You seriously thought it was mine? I have no money. I don't even own my teeth. My parents own my teeth. 

Anyway, without further ado, I give to you:

****

Chapter 7: Softened

__

Tap, tap tap …

Ginny forced one eye open and saw a large black blur at her window. Grudgingly, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and let the bird in, absently clutching the note in its beak and fumbling for a treat. It flew away in a huff and Ginny flopped back onto her bed, rubbing her eyes. She glanced at Parvati's clock on the other side of the room – 8'clock.

Ginny sucked in a sharp breath and bolted upright. She had slept through dinner! Moaning, she shuffled through the papers in the note Professor Limbaugh's raven had just dropped off and slipped them into a folder marked "Malfoy" which was then shoved into her bag and hefted onto her shoulder. _Good God._ Ginny groaned under the weight and stumbled out of the room, hoping to grab something to eat in the common room before heading to the library to get some work done.

The library was the only peaceful place in her world these days. It was the only place she could be free of the rude stares, the jeering and relentless mockery of her peers. It wasn't that it bothered her so much anymore; it just grated on her nerves. And she had _so_ much work – Ginny rolled her eyes as she shuffled down the corridor, trying not to let her brain focus on the mega-list of homework, essays, projects, and then medical research she had to get done tonight.

It was a Wednesday night. The floorboards creaked eerily as she made her way down the hall. As she passed the Hufflepuff tower, she could hear cheery music and the sound of laughter ringing through the cavernous space above her. 

_Goddamn._

Ginny shook her head and tried to concentrate on what she had to do rather than what she was missing.

A few minutes later, she was sitting at a long table towards the back of the library, mountains of parchment and reference material in front of her and an old apple she had scavenged from the depths of her bag in her hands. She let the taste of stale fruit dissolve into her tongue as she considered a nearby cobweb thoughtfully. _What do you say? 3, 4 hours maybe and then we can go to bed?_

_At least._

She really hadn't been to bed before 1 am all week. It was sort of tiring.

Ginny took another bite from the spoiled apple and mulled through a nearby pile, willing the homework to do itself. She looked longingly at the folder in her bag – all she really wanted to do was push all this other junk off the desk and delve into the mysteries of Ruledour Nainec. The intricacies of the Krankefluche had been enthralling her all week, and she had initiated a correspondence with Limbaugh who was owling her all the resources he had on the disease. It really was nice to be talking to the old professor again; she had missed him over the summer.

Classes were dull. There had been a decided lack of verbal spars this week. All she could do when she saw Draco was cringe and try to bear under the wave of pain that hit her. Potions was the worse – every ten minutes or so, a fresh swell would capture her in throes of torture. She didn't know what she'd do if she ever had to stay in his presence longer than an hour.

And of course, Draco hadn't started anything. He merely sent the occasional sneer in her direction, or acknowledged her darkly over the room. 

The Ravenclaws were disappointed. 

Ginny smiled at the thought. Brandon Lawsley, an eager gambler and 4th year Ravenclaw had actually approached her today and asked if something was wrong.

Sad when the only interaction you get with other human beings is to be asked when you'll yell at Draco Malfoy next.

But she couldn't. Even if she _could _look at him and not feel pain, she could never bring herself to tear him down verbally again. As much as her intellect was appalled, Ginny had forgiven Malfoy for being so nasty. He was most certainly justified – it was all he knew, and besides, if she were in his situation, she'd probably be a tad cranky as well.

She would heal him. She was determined. And in the meantime, she would give him all the care that was humanly possible – even if it meant suffering in her schoolwork like this.

Perhaps, if she was lucky, he'd even let her.

*****************************************

Ginny collapsed into a fading maroon armchair in the Gryffindor common room, her bag following suit at her feet. The few people milling about shot her a look of distaste and pointedly stood up and stalked away. She really didn't give a damn. She took a long chug of coffee from the large cup Dobby had most graciously prepared for her in the Kitchens.

She was really getting addicted to the stuff.

It was Saturday afternoon, and she had just finished her independent study in Snape's dungeons. Her shift this morning had been quite uneventful. Saturdays usually were; most students were at Hogsmeade or otherwise too busy enjoying themselves to get hurt. The only major incident was a distressed young first year who came blundering in flanked by two friends, head firmly planted in a rather large Grecian urn. Peeves' mischief, undoubtedly. Filch would be livid when he found out.

Other than that, she had had decidedly too many long hours to finish her work and contemplate Malfoy's case. _You're becoming obsessed, you know_, her conscience warned her. 

Ginny snapped her head up violently at the sound of the portrait opening, spilling coffee all down her jean skirt. "Shit!" she cursed involuntarily.

A tense head of frizzy brown curls snapped her way. Hermione Granger's eyes widened in horror as she dropped her books and ran to Ginny's side.

"Oh Merlin Ginny, are you ok? I'm so sorry!" Hermione whipped out her wand and muttered a quick cleaning spell that mercifully cooled the denim on Ginny's thighs. 

Ginny looked up at Hermione and mumbled confused thanks before taking out her own wand and rolling up her skirt. An angry red burn glared up at her and Ginny winced and muttered a spell, sighing in relief as cool mist flowed from the tip of her wand to the wound. 

She looked up and smiled at Hermione, who was wringing her hands in humiliation. "Calm down, Hermione, it's nothing. Really, it's all better now!" She couldn't help but be amused by the distraught brunette's constant worrying.

"But did you see the size of that welt! Gods Ginny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you and …"

"Hermione, sit down, you're freaking me out." Ginny pushed Hermione into a nearby couch and looked at her curiously. "It's my fault, I was spacing out."

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded after one last concerned glance to Ginny's leg.

A long, awkward silence ensued as the girls remembered they weren't friends anymore.

"Umm … I'll just be going then …" Ginny mumbled stupidly as she pulled at her stubbornly heavy bag and wondered for the millionth time what had happened to end the friendship with her closest confidante.

"No, Ginny, I want to talk to you."

_Oh great. Here we go. _ Ginny had expecting the lecture for weeks now. Hermione had expressed blatant disappointment in her, for reasons Ginny couldn't really fathom. Of all people, Hermione Granger should understand social equality – after all, she was teased ruthlessly about her parentage and muggle background. Ginny had really thought Hermione would understand … it's when you lose the esteem of your best friends that you truly have no where to turn, and that loss had been so tangible the last few weeks.

Ginny rolled her eyes and faced her ex-friend. "Look, Hermione, I don't know what it is you, or the whole school for that matter, have against me, but if you're only here to condemn me for something I'm obligated to do, I think we're done." She was tired. She really didn't feel like standing up for herself right now.

To her everlasting surprise, Hermione looked up at her with tears in her eyes.

"Merlin Ginny, is that really what you think of me? I don't care that you work! In fact, I'm really proud of you!" Hermione coughed uncomfortably. "Proud of the work, that is, not its reason." She frowned disapprovingly, the tears swelling in her eyes again. "I guess, Ginny, it's just … I thought I knew you. Why? Why did you do it?" The tears were openly falling down Hermione's cheeks now.

Ginny was taken aback. Hermione was not one to show emotion so freely.

_What on earth is she on about?_

"Uh … I'm not sure I know what you mean, Hermione."

Hermione glared, immediately scolding Ginny. "Don't give me that! I've been best friends with you and your brother since the two of you came to Hogwarts. I really thought I knew you. And honestly Ginny, I can't see how you could have stooped any lower – or why."

Ginny leaned forward in her chair, wondering if Hermione was finally losing it after years of late night studying and over-achievement. "Hermione. What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

Her old friend shot her a reproachful frown and then studied Ginny's face for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, as Ginny was just about to give up in exasperation and go lie down, Hermione sucked in a sharp breath.

"You didn't do it."

"Great Merlin, Hermione, you've gone totally bonkers." Ginny rolled her eyes and looked at Hermione incredulously, vaguely wondering what had happened to finally make Hermione snap as she reached for her bag a second time.

With alarming forcefulness, Hermione grabbed Ginny's shoulders and looked her in the eyes, her face turning an unnatural shade of alabaster with confusion and panic.

"Ginny … oh my God. You don't even know."

Ginny felt apprehension wash over her. "What?" she asked curtly.

Hermione was raising trembling hands to her mouth, her caramel flecked eyes wide first in horror and then anger. The petite brunette leapt up very suddenly from her chair, screaming Ron's name at the to of her lungs.

"ROOOOONNN! RONALD WEASELY! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU? GET DOWN HERE _IMMEADIATELY_!" 

Ginny winced, rubbing her ears tenderly and trying to remember if she had ever heard Hermione Granger swear before.

She looked up at the fuming girl and tentatively offered, "Umm, I think he's at quidditch practice, Hermione. Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Ginny snapped a little too sarcastically. It was taking all of her energy to remain patient.

Hermione was stomping around the common room, muttering to herself and yelling every now and then for Ron. When she looked up to face Ginny, the tears were back, glistening over her coffee brown eyes, and the colour of her face had gone from deathly pale to a colour that would have rivaled Ginny and Ron's very own trademark Weasely flush. 

Ginny felt her skin crawl in foreboding dread; something terrible had happened and she had a very nervous feeling she was the only one who didn't know.

"Ginny. Gods, where do I start … I'm so sorry! I had no idea …" Hermione flung herself at the redhead, and cried silently into her shoulder, refusing to say anything else. 

__

Somebody better tell me what's going on RIGHT NOW. 

Deep breath. 1, 2, 3 … Ginny finally lost her composure.

"Hermione Granger! Quit whining!" Ginny shoved the girl out of her arms. "What the fuck is going on?!" Ginny grabbed Hermione's shoulders, forcing her to face her even as Hermione's eyes darted away uncomfortably.

She slowly looked back to Ginny cautiously. "Ginny … umm … Ron told everyone you had moved out this summer." She tooka deep breath. "and that you … uh … became a … umm … professional escort." Hermione Granger coughed pristinely and watched sympathetically as Virginia fell to the couch in stunned disbelief.

*****************************************

__

Oh my God.

Oh my fucking God.

He told everyone I was a whore.

Ginny was seated on the cool white tile of the hospital floor, the early Sunday morning sun pouring in through the enormous archaic window she was leaning against. The sun warmed her right cheek, leaving the other half of her body unpleasantly cold. 

She couldn't believe it.

Hermione had fussed and bothered over her for a good twenty minutes, apologizing endlessly before Ginny could drag the rest of the explanation out of her. Haltingly, Hermione had proceeded to tell her that Ron's owls over the summer had been most peculiar, expressing his anger first at Lucius Malfoy for making his family suffer, and then, as things progressed, his anger at his parents and Ginny for their calm acceptance of poverty. Ron was proud; and he wrote on several occasions that he wouldn't stand to see the Weasely family dishonoured by Ginny working for a living at sixteen. 

__

'Can you even imagine how she'll be treated, or me, even, for that matter, and then Thomas and Luke when they get to Hogwarts in a few years time? You have no idea how it is to live with a constant feeling of failure, Hermione. I can't let this happen.' he had apparently written once. But, according to Hermione, he had never once mentioned Ginny's "summer job" until they had all arrived at Hogwarts. And it had of course been quite believable after Draco Malfoy shouted through the crowded 4th year train carriage that she had taken up whoring on Temptation Alley over the summer.

This outburst was followed by several minutes of Hermione berating herself for not seeing through the simple prevarication sooner – Ron had jumped on the first opportunity to separate himself and his family from Ginny's disgrace.

__

Disgrace.

It made Ginny want to cry.

__

You are crying, stupid.

Ginny wiped her tears away angrily and stuffed that annoying inner voice back into the recesses of her mind where its taunts would be smothered. She couldn't stand it. She had never been good enough for Ron – and now she never would be. 

The rest didn't matter. The rumour started itself, really – enough people had heard Malfoy's comment. Ron had merely fanned the flames. _Virginia Weasley is a whore. Yea, I heard she was working in Temptation Alley this summer. Her family disowned her. That's why Ron Weasley's not talking to her. She has to work in the hospital cuz otherwise she wouldn't be able to go to school, you know._

It all made such horrifying sense now. 

Why the Gryffindors hated her. Why there had been so many whore-related insults in her various verbal matches, insults she had brushed off as simply unoriginal tactics.

They all thought she was a whore. Literally.

And her big brother, her hero, had eagerly taken the lie and spread it like a bad cold through the halls of Hogwarts.

__

He didn't want to associate himself with me.

__

Do you blame him?

A new flood of tears spilled down her cinnamon dotted cheeks as Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, sobbed like a baby into the unforgiving, frosted bay window of the Hogwarts hospital wing.

*****************************************

It was just another Sunday morning.

Draco limped feebly into the hospital wing, his eyes flitting suspiciously around the room until its vacancy was confirmed. Letting out a deep sigh, he felt his body crash to a nearby bed and the crisp white sterility of the place cool his burning body.

He winced a little, the arches of his feet throbbing in untended pain. Pansy Fucking Parkinson had 'romantically surprised him' the day before by surrounding herself in candles and prostrating herself on his bed in lingerie that should never, _EVER_ be worn by _anyone_ weighing more than 60 kilos. He had nearly vomited before a rush of familiar pain scorched into the soles of his feet. The candles had reminded him of the time his father first discovered the delights of hot pokers … his feet being the first experiment. _God, that hurt like hell._

_Goddamn Pansy Parkinson, pig-faced slut,_ he thought miserably as he lay there, staring at the ceiling.

His mouth turned into an angry scowl at the next thought.

_Goddamn Blaise Zabini for giving her the fucking password._

_Ugh._ _Surrounded by morons._

At the moment, just as he was about to wonder where his delicious nurse was (a certain nurse he had decided to give another chance after watching her closely all week), he heard what sounded like a strangled sob from the other end of the wing.

Groaning, he teetered to his feet, mentally cursing his insuppressible gentlemanly instincts. It was practically built into his genetic code, for Merlin's sake: 'Woman cries, Man finds out why, Man comforts, Man beats crap out of reason.'

Draco slowly made his way down the long aisle flanked by immaculate twin beds until he reached Pomfrey's office. The whimpers were intensifying, and he turned the corner of her office to face the second, seldom-used ward that was his personal favourite. The enormous window overlooking a spectacular view of the Hogwarts gardens had been a place of solace for him many times before.

But this time, seated on the floor to the far left corner of the floor-to-ceiling glass plated window was a petite young woman, her knees pulled to her chest and her long, scarlet curls spilling down her graceful back. Her small shoulders were shaking in silent tears, and the light pouring in through the window illuminated a barely visible puddle at her feet. She must have been crying like that for hours.

Hopelessly, he noted that the soft sunlight also left the impression of a humble round halo floating atop her burning locks. She was irresistable even when she was sobbing and he couldn't see her face.

As quietly as he could manage without further injuring the blackened scorches on his feet, he faltered over to the window and lowered himself to the ground, ignoring the various protests and cracks his body made. Once planted firmly on the ground, he studied the sad goddess in front of him and wondered what he should do. He couldn't just leave her like that.

"Weasley?"

*****************************************

It took Ginny a few seconds to peel herself off the ceiling and regain her poise after Malfoy rudely snapped her out of her pity-party.

Taking a few deep breaths, she tucked her wild curls behind her ears, trying to look somewhat normal and appropriately haughty. She eyed Malfoy furtively. 

"Yes?" she faltered. Her confidence was shattered. _Well if this isn't just the icing on the cake._ She tried to discreetly dry her soaked face in semblance of getting up and reaching her robed arm past her face to grab for a handhold. 

Malfoy didn't say a word, just grapsed her wrist firmly and pulled her back to the ground.

Slowly, she ventured to look up into his tired face. _Bad idea._ In an instant she was lying on her back gripping her stomach and clawing wildly at her … feet? She groaned and bit her lip as she waited for the pain to pass. He was hurting so much.

When she finally climbed back into a makeshift sitting position, he was staring at her with an eyebrow cocked in question and body posture radiating superficial power. But his eyes … the depths of his eyes were searching her soul again, asking what was wrong and begging for her to help him, all at once.

"Anything, wrong weasel?" he inquired in a surprisingly decent tone.

"No, nothing," Ginny responded somewhat abruptly, wiping at her face distractedly.

His eyes never leaving hers, he pulled a black silk handkerchief from the folds of his robes and offered it to her chivalrously.

_Goddamn. How do I explain my way out of this one?_

She accepted the handkerchief gratefully and blew her nose, trying not to face Malfoy, wishing he could just go away and let her rot in peace. Part of her wanted desperately to get up and find his Relieving Potion, put him in a bed and tuck the covers up under chin, mop his forehead and take his temperature as he fell asleep. The other part was crumbling in unabashed exhaustion, too drained to even scold her for wanting to heal Malfoy. She was emotionally sapped and mentally lost.

She was also apparently going completely schizo, she realized as she made another swab at her still leaking eyes.

_He's never gonna let you forget this, love._ On top of all that, she was discovering that her conscience had serious attitude problems.

*****************************************

She had nearly died when he called her name softly at first. Then she nearly died again when he looked her in the eyes.

It had happened all week. Every time he saw the girl she would nearly cry out in pain, and simultaneously he would feel the smallest inkling of relief. It was like taking a sip of Relieving Potion every time he saw her. And for her, of course, it was a little taste of hell. It made him want to laugh and cry all at once – she could never know the literal hell he existed in, that what little she experienced was nothing. Funny, really. But she was in such utter anguish – such complete torment over him. Emotionally too. He could see it in her eyes.

He had noticed; of course. He was Draco Malfoy, after all. Nothing gets by a Malfoy. Her damn eyes changed colour whenever he passed his pain to her.

Draco watched her as she nervously accepted his handkerchief and blew her nose genteelly, tucking her beautiful spirals of sanguine fire behind her tiny ears. Her hair was rumpled, like she had just gotten out of bed. Wild to match her personality. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, and her eyes were sparkling their natural green colour a little more vibrantly than usual, tears glistening in the sunlight. Her long auburn lashes squeezed shut quickly and brushed her fairy-dusted cheekbones as another tear squeezed out. Draco had a very sudden and disturbing urge to wipe it away. Such utter innocence, such complete naïveté packaged into such a fiery spirit. Draco closed his eyes as a wave of intensely seductive fragrance hit his nostrils full force – it smelled like toasted vanilla, innocently childlike while at the same time womanly and sexual.

__

MALFOY! SNAP OUT OF IT!

He had just been contemplating the questionable beauty of a _Weasley._ Holy Fuck. Someone needed to shoot him.

He contemplated getting up and leaving, but there was something about Virginia Weasley that wouldn't let him leave. If anything, the curiosity of why she had been sitting alone in the second ward sobbing was eating him alive.

"Anything wrong, weasel?"

*****************************************

Ginny watched skeptically as Malfoy nearly choked on his tea. "He _what?_"

He had insisted she tell him what she was crying about. Good ammo for future battles, he had said. And she had in turn insisted that he take his relieving potion first. Good diversion tactic, she had said.

And now, for Merlin knows what reason, she was informing Draco Malfoy of the newest definition of ass –a certain Ronald Weasley.

They were both sitting on a dusty bed near the window in the second ward. No patients had been in here for as long as Ginny could remember – as far as she knew, she was the only person ever to stay here for a sustained period of time. After the Chamber of Secrets, that is. But apparently Malfoy was well acquainted with it too.

She had all together too much in common with the ferret.

They were both sipping the dregs of some sort of tea Ginny had found in a kettle heating itself magically on Pomfrey's desk. He had needed something to wash his potion down; it was a little on the potent side this week.

He had abandoned it completely now, though, and was clutching his sides in mirth, the mug lying forgotten on the floor beside the bed.

Malfoy was positively gleeful.

"What an idiot! What a moron!" He broke into loud snickers again. "That's so priceless. And to think that _I_ had something to do with it!" His laughter was downright infectious.

Ginny giggled a little, bubbles forming in her tea. It _was_ kinda funny. She schooled her face back into a frown quickly. It was also quite sacrilegious of her to be here talking to Draco Malfoy for … she glanced at a nearby chronometer. Twenty minutes?! How on earth had she managed to carry on decent conversation with him for that long?

In all honesty, she didn't really care. He was quite literally the only person she could talk to, and amazingly, he was listening – and finding it incredibly amusing, at that. Even Hermione wouldn't do that. Ginny had an ominous feeling that her know-it-all friend would be groveling in apology for weeks.

Ginny refocused on the convulsing Malfoy, who looked decidedly better with his glamour charm back on and medicine in his stomach.

"It's not funny Malfoy. No thanks to you, and kudos to my brother, the entire school thinks I'm a prostitute!"

Very naughty images of Virginia Weasley, lace, chocolate syrup and a pole raced through Malfoy's head. He shook it clear and focused on the distraught young woman before him.

"But you're not. Or as far as I know."

"Harhar. Funny, ferret, real funny. Want a cookie?"

"Oh save it, Weasley." He pondered her meditatively. "You know, you're not all that bad." Malfoy's mind went blank. "Why do I hate you again?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. Did he always act this weird after he took his potion? "Because I'm a _Weasely_, Malfoy, remember? Red hair, lack of cash?"

Malfoy snapped his fingers obligingly. "Ah yes! Shame, really." He shoved his nose into the air.

At that instant, a brilliant idea presented itself to Draco's thought process.

Ginny knew before he had even said the words.

"Weasel. Listen. I've got a smashing idea." A scheming sneer played around Malfoy's cold lips. "I hate your brother. You hate your brother. I hate you, but not really because of you, just because of who you are." Ginny looked at him in confusion. He waved his hand distractedly. "And you hate me because I hate your brother, who you hate now, so it doesn't really matter.

"Malfoy, I don't think you could possibly sound more inane if you tried."

"I propose a truce, Miss Weasley," Draco said ever so formally, rising and bowing. "A truce for purposes of revenge." He ceremonially extended his hand to a perplexed Ginny. 

"Oh come on Weasel! Just so we can pull a really good one on him, it's a perfect! Just imagine what we could do!" he begged. Schemes of surreal, anti-Dream Team bliss floated before Draco's eyes. 

Suddenly, to his surprise and auditory pain, Ginny squealed loudly in delight.

"Malfoy! You're a genius! We could totally _murder_ him and he would never guess it was us, I mean, who would think the great, all-worthless Draco Malfoy would associate himself, let alone plot, with Virginia Weasley, meek 6th year sister of Ronald Blushing Weasley."

Draco coloured slightly, a little taken aback that Ron's sister was so familiar with nicknames he probably didn't even know existed. 

Splendid, though.

She saw his point. 

What pangs of agony Ronald Weasley would go through when they turned his hair blue or something equally hilarious. O, what hyseterical, wonderful pain he would experience if he ever found out it was Malfoy and his _sister_ that had planned it. 

The look on his face would almost make up for the pain Draco could still feel grating on his skin. For a few minutes, at least.

_What a fabulous notion,_ he thought happily as she shook his hand, its small proportions lost in his large, well manicured palms.

Ron would _never _believe it. Ginny giggled girlishly at the thought of her brother spotted purple. Anything, really. He would never be able to experience the mortification she had, anyway. It would be worth it just to see his face.

_What an awesome idea_, Ginny thought as she took Malfoy's hand and shook it enthusiastically. 

__

Ron is so gonna get it.

And as well he should! After what he did to you?

Ginny winced and tried not to focus on the pain that had been so unbearable before Malfoy had come. Mixing her pain with his, she was able to forget … and simply plot.

She spent all day on that dusty old bed with the Hogwarts Slytherin sex god. _Oh, if only Pansy knew._

Her lips twisted into a demure smile; visions of revenge filling her head as the two of them launched into serious debate and conniving conspiracy.

*****************************************

"Hey Ginny, looks like you could use a new robe. I'll get you one if you help me with mine."

Ginny snorted in disgust and pushed an over-excited Ravenclaw off her chest and sent daggers at him with her eyes. He tottered away mindfully after a final, sorrowful glance over his shoulder, to which she scowled. 

She was incredibly happy though. Walking on air, in fact. 

Never mind that the only reason she could be this happy was because of a certain, deeply evil Slytherin who had sort of caused her problems indirectly to begin with.

Didn't matter.

It was too perfect.

A certain very, very horrible scheme found its way into her mind.

At that moment, her co-conspirator stalked pass and slid her a knowing glance and quick wink, nodding in confirmation.

Ginny pulled her books to her chest and grinned. Smiled like she hadn't in weeks. She heard someone yelling something about nurses and muggles and sex, but it slid off of her like oil on water. 

Ron had no idea what he was in for.

*****************************************

A/N: The muses were kind. What do you think? Be heard! Review! lol … I'm desperate, I know.

I'm sorry about the weird spacing. I had to go back and put in *** things where there were breaks of thought, and I really hate *** thingys but I have no choice, otherwise it would all run together. Grr. I'm quite digitally challenged … I don't even know how to change the ellipses, they're totally messed up, it only shows one dot instead of three. *sighs and shakes head* Computers.


	8. Chapter 8: Revenge On Ron

A/N: slightly more timely this time! Slightly! lol, thank you to every one who emailed me reminding me to update. I'll try and be more consistent … but to make up for it, this chapter is _really_ long.

You have no idea how thrilled I am that my reviewers are Pirates of the Caribbean junkies!!! I love you! You have all just skyrocketed in my estimation.

I would just like to say that I simply cannot go on to be an actress now, knowing that the stupid academy didn't pick my amazingly stunning Johnny Depp for best actor. Who ever heard of "mystic river" anyway?? Grr …

Anyway. Sorry this took so long, but it's worth it! 17 pages in Word, font 10! *stands straight, proud of herself* Thanks to everyone who sent me emails reminding me to update! You all totally made my week(s) … lol.

I know this chapter strays a little from the Draco/Ginny romance, but it's important that they have common ground before falling madly in love with each other. Don't agree? Email me or leave me a nice long flame or review =)

Also, I had to do a lot of Ron and Harry POVs in this chappie … and I apologize to all my fellow Ron haters, but I couldn't take him too drastically out of character. I tried to emphasis his, ahem, dullness and such; forgive me if you're a Ron person. Oh well. Anyway, if anyone is way out of character please tell me … review, email (xangelicfirex@yahoo.com) or AIM (xfire angeliquex)

And … this week I hope to start two new stories, because I feel so invigorated and encouraged by all my beautiful reviewers in this story! One is a kinky, unpredictable one, and the other is one I'm cowriting with a fellow ff.net Ginny/Draco shipper, Offwhite. So keep an eye open for those.

My shoutouts and extra disclaimers are at the bottom, due to complaints. =)

ok. Now that I've bored you with my long note. The friendship/romance builds pretty fast after this chapter, so don't be disheartened. Much love to everyone who makes me feel so loved by reading this fic =) you're awesome.

PLEASE NOTE: Mature language and topics are handled in this chapter. Don't kill me if you're offended – you've been warned. 

Disclaimer: *grumbles incoherently* Yea yea yea, it's not mine. Don't sue me.

****

Chapter 8: Revenge on Ron

Ronald Weasley paced his dorm in a cold sweat. He glanced over to his side of the room and gawked in dismay at the pile of curled parchment sitting in a neat stack on the rug. Furiously wiping drops of perspiration from his flaming red brow, he threw a look at Harry's chronometer and groaned as he realized another note would be due in three minutes.

It was Monday evening, and Ron was having the worst day of his life. Harry rolled over in his sleep across the room, having given up on Ron's nervous antics hours ago. Ron began pacing again and reflected on the horrible anticipation this day was building up to.

Every hour, on the hour, since 12 midnight last night, an evil looking owl had delivered cryptic messages to the center of his and Harry's dorm. They all held foreboding messages and each scrap was inscribed with a line from what seemed to be a poem, as well as an ominous countdown from 24 to zero in the lower right hand corner. Nervously, Ron shuffled to the center of the room and leafed through the pile for the millionth time that day.

The first sheet read:

****

Never chase a lie. Let it alone, and it will run itself to death.

__

Three months ago this day

1

He had received it at midnight last night. After reading every parchment at least twenty times, he had vaguely managed to gather that someone thought he had told a lie. _Ridiculous!_ He was Ronald Weasely, honest, brave-hearted Gryffindor! He had only ever told one lie in his entire life worth telling (besides lying to Mum about chores and covering for his brothers). Ron cringed at the thought of that one, nagging prevarication. He had good reason for it, though. And besides, there was no way anyone knew about it. As soon as Harry woke up he would get to the bottom of this.

But the warnings grew increasingly more threatening just as the lines of the poem grew increasingly enigmatic.

Parchment two read:

****

A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth.

__

The one you love most was led astray

2

He had got that one at 1am last night. Sighing, Ron wrinkled his brow in frustration at the quote. _ A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth._ In a brief moment of concern, he contemplated what people would think of him if they found out what he had said about Ginny. Well, _he_ hadn't really _said_ anything … he had just helped along an already started rumor. But what would people think if they found out? He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on that. After all, he had done it in the first place to separate himself from bad associations.

Why was he even thinking this?! _You're going psycho on yourself, mate_. _No one knows!_ Ron flipped through the remaining parchments, focusing on the "words of advice" instead of the cryptic poem, quotations which seemed to grow more intimidating each time he read them.

****

Good lies need a leavening of truth to make them palatable.

Huh? _Well_, he thought_, I guess whatever it was I 'said' about Ginny wasn't based in truth at all … but what the hell does 'palatable' mean?_ ARG! Why was he comparing this whole, bloody situation to his little sister?? This had nothing to do with her. It was just some stupid git with no life who had it out for him.

****

A liar should have a good memory.

What exactly was this person trying to infer?! Ron could feel the tips of his ears burning in restrained fury.

****

False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil.

So he was EVIL now?? _How DARE they!!!_ Of all people, _him_, evil!

****

All men are frauds. The only difference between them is that some admit it.

That one made him grin before he recovered his face into a scowl. Probably some sexist girl who had it out for the whole male gender … hmm … Parvati, maybe? Wait … he wasn't a liar, though! And he most certainly did _not_ have to admit it!

****

And none speaks false, when there in none to hear.

Oh so what, was this mysterious sender with the scary owl going to kill him now, so he couldn't tell any more lies? Ron forced a laugh, but even as he did so his hands shook as he pulled out the next parchment from the heap.

****

Every violation of truth is not only a suicide of the liar, but is a stab at the health of human society.

Ok, that one was just downright frightening.

****

I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted: I said in my haste, All men are liars.

Yep, a feminist for sure. _Wait_ … that one sounded familiar … Ron racked his brains, desperately searching for answers. _A-ha!_ That's it! _That's from that muggle book! The … umm …. bilblo? Bible!_ Who the bloody hell was sending him messages with quotes from muggle authors and some wacked out muggle religion?!

****

Dare to be true: nothing can need a lie; A fault which needs it most, grows two thereby.

What was that, an exhortation to be 'good'? Ron snorted in an attempt to simmer down his bubbling anger. Who in Merlin's name was preaching at him? He gritted his teeth and angrily plucked out the next note.

Show me a liar, and I'll show thee a thief.

Oh, so he was a THIEF now! _Just wait until I find out who you are … I'll show _you_ a thief…_

****

A liar will steal, and a thief will kill.

Ron's face darkened to a dangerous shade of crimson. _First a theif, now a _murderer_? What the HELL!?_ Where the fuck were they getting this stuff? _It doesn't even make sense_, he huffed angrily.

****

Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle that fits the all.

This time he _had_ to laugh. He didn't give a damn about 'sin' or any other muggle … doctrine. Grumbling, though, he did resent the insinuation.

****

A man is never more truthful than when he acknowledges himself as a liar

What was that, a soft request for him to take back his words? Whatever. He would never take back what he said … spread … about Ginny, even though that wasn't the issue here at all. She had deserved it. And frankly, whatever this person had against him deserved whatever he had done … Ron shook his head, confusing himself. He turned to the next parchment. 

****

A man of such obviousand exemplary charm must be a liar.

What did the emphasis mean? He reread the sentence a few times. Was that … sarcasm? Bewildered, Ron didn't know whether to be complimented or insulted. _Moving on to the next one_ …

****

The cruelest lies are often told in silence.

__

Oh yes, very scary Mr. Muggle Quote Man. Ron glanced at the quotation again. Actually, that _was_ kind of spooky … what exactly was going on that he didn't know? What 'lies' were being told behind _his_ back? He forced himself to stop shaking as he palmed the next note and simultaneously swiped away a bead of moisture from his jawline.

****

A boaster and a liar are cousins.

__

I am NOT a boaster!!!

****

No one is such a liar as the indignant man.

__

And I'm not indignant, either. Did being resentful of his sister qualify as 'indignant?' Ron pondered this for a long moment. _ARG! Stop comparing this to Ginny! This has nothing to do with her!_ He shoved the paper under the pile and shuffled through to the next parchment.

****

You can best reward a liar by believing nothing of what he says.

Whatever…

****

A man is never more truthful than when he acknowledges himself as a liar

Ronald Weasley was NOT a liar! _So therefore I have nothing to be truthful ABOUT! Ha! Wait …_He was getting confused again.

****

The liar's punishment is not in the least that he is not believed, but that he cannot believe anyone else.

That was disturbing. Harry's words from the previous day echoed eerily in his head … _What's gotten into you, mate? You've become such a cynic, lately._ An indescribable desire welled up inside Ron to tear the note apart, but he controlled it, reminding himself that he needed the notes to figure out the damned poem. Then he would burn them all. Then he would find the sender and put them through a miserable, horrible death. Then he would spit on their grave. Then he would dig them back up and kill them again. Anyway.

****

It takes a wise man to handle a lie. A fool had better remain honest.

What the fuck does that mean? Ron ran his hand nervously over his brow again. _Whatever it means, I'm no fool, _Ron muttered angrily to himself as he jostled the note back under the pile and grabbed at the next one. He knew his complexion must have been rivaling his hair colour by then, but he didn't give a damn. He was going to finish reading these, figure the whole bloody thing out, and then go rip whoever was behind this to shreds. He cast another angry glance at the unperturbed Harry sleeping quietly in his bed before dropping his eyes to the next parchment.

****

The desire of a man is his kindness: and a poor man is better than a liar.

__

Ouch. That hurts. Ron had always hated being called poor, it hurt the deepest part of his pride and always cut him down at the knees … he could never come back with anything good. So was this whole 'liar' thing supposed to be worse than that? He was beginning to feel that way … but not remorsefully. More murderously, than anything. He fingered the last slip of paper, the words already imbedded in his mind.

****

A lover's moon soars clear and bright, guiding true love throughout the night.  
But a liar's moon lurks misty and gray, scheming to drive true love away. 

So according to this mystery person, his one 'lie' (whatever the fuck it was) had jeopardized his love life … from now until forever. He sighed, wishing Harry was awake, or that Hermione would talk to him. He had barely escaped her claws Sunday, and had since avoided her at all costs … whatever it was she was furious about, he had no intention of getting in her way.

Just then, he heard a rattling of talons at his window.

The enormous, black owl soared gracefully into the dorm as Ron yanked open the rusty pane. It dropped the note neatly by the now scattered stack of other notes and waited haughtily for its treat. In blind fury at the animal's gall, Ron rushed at it and kicked it with all his might, reaching to strangle it before it flew out the window in terror.

He stooped down to pick up the final note.

****

Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him to the gates of hell.

__

To restore a life; a kinship; before in hell you burn.

PSEVDOMAI HADES

LET THE EIGHT DAYS OF AGONY COMMENCE

24

Ron crashed to the floor in a dead faint.

********************

Harry Potter woke unhappily to the sounds of his best mate's corybantic screams and the screeches of an abused messenger bird. Turning around abruptly, he cleared his blurry eyes just in time to register that it was midnight, exactly, and that Ron had collapsed to the floor in unconsciousness.

Within a few minutes he had the poor redhead back to awareness, only to have him screaming in a mixture of rage, fright and hysteria. In helplessness, Harry smacked Ron across the face.

For a moment, Ron was completely silent, his eyes glazed over. Then the Ronald Weasley that we all know and love came back full force.

"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL WAS THAT FOR HARRY!?" roared Ron. Harry noted absently that he had never seen any Weasley ever manage quite this stunning shade of scarlet. He would have made a joke about it had he not been in fear for his life. Scooting away a little, he looked his friend in the eye and tried to make sense of the situation.

Ron had been acting like a maniac all day. Hermione had gone into a pique of unexplained, wrathful passion yesterday (err ... Sunday, that is, if 'today' was now Tuesday) and had refused to talk to either of them. For his part, Harry was blissfully ignorant.

One look into his friends eyes not only informed him that that was ruddy well going to change, but also that he was in for some unexpected spice that he had been hoping to avoid his 7th year at Hogwarts.

"Ron. Calm down mate. What's happened to you?"

"WHAT'S _HAPPENED_ TO ME?!? NOTHING HAS _HAPPENED _TO ME! I'M PERFECTLY _FINE**!"**_

Trying to ignore the high-pitched tone of Ron's screeches, Harry answered coolly, "No, you're not Ron. Would you mind explaining? You've been getting these mysterious notes all day that have practically driven you mad, Hermione's more pissed off then I've ever seen her in her life …" Realization dawned suddenly on Harry. "Oh God … you didn't … did you? I mean, I know how you feel about her, mate, but I told you, she's –"

_Thwack._

Harry rubbed his cheek tenderly and dodged as another pillow flew his direction.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! I CANNOT _BELIEVE_ THAT AT A TIME LIKE THIS YOU'RE BRINGING UP _HERMIONE!!!!_"

"Ron, please, chill –"

"Just shut up and listen, Harry. I've been getting these weird …" he gestured at the disarray of parchment on the floor. " … messages, all day, and the last one just came. They've been coming every hour, on the hour, and every single bloody one has some sort of dumb saying about how bad lying is …" He glanced at Harry nervously. "… and a line from what looks to be a poem or something. Then … the last one …" Ron's eyes glazed over again, and he simply muttered, "Psevdomai Hades …"

"Ron, maybe you should just lay down, I think you've gone bonkers."

Ron gripped Harry's shoulders. "This isn't a joke, Harry. Do you know what Psevdomai Hades is? No? It means 'Liar's Hell.' It's followed by the Eight Days of Agony. Do you even know what the fuck that means?" Ron shook his head at his muggle-ish friend's blank face. "It means I'm bloody well _screwed,_ that's what it means! Psevdomai Hades is the punishment given to a liar … for an unjust lie. And the punishment can be anything, and it lasts for eight days. It's sort of a tradition … I suppose I shouldn't be scared, I mean, usually it's just stupid things like writing on the wall warning you not to do it again." Ron screwed up his brow in concentration. "I think I remember 'Mione telling me once that it had to do with an ancient form of torture wizards did … like literally, Eight Days of Agony for compulsive liars or traitors …"

Harry considered his friend. Ron was the most honest person he knew. Unless …

Ron was still going. "… and honestly, what have I ever lied about? I mean for Merlin's sake, Harry …" He twitched nervously. "It's probably just some first year I pushed around, right? You gotta help me figure this out, mate."

"Let's have a look at that poem," was all Harry said.

The two friends pieced together the poem slowly, reattaching pieces that Ron had ripped in anger and slowly arranging the lines in order.

__

Three months ago this day

The one you love most was led astray

You banished her from your stone cold heart

And set to live from her apart

But family isn't broken by will alone

So a horrible deception you were forced to condone

You spread filth of another for your own regard

And for it there is a life that will be forever marred

Liar! are you, so say the fates

Liar of the worst degree to impose familial hate

And so a lesson must you learn

To restore a life; a kinship; before in hell you burn.

"Well, that's a bloody load of rubbish. Lot of good that does," Ron said, staring at the words, utterly baffled.

"Ron … don't you remember? Familial hate? One you love most? Come on, you really can be so dense sometimes." Harry shook his head sadly. "Which of your family do you, or I guess, did you love most? Who have you lied about and totally snubbed this year?" Harry grimaced in recollection. "Remember, Ron? I even said you should do it!"

Ron turned a deathly shade of white, demonstrating yet again the amazing range of the Weasley complexion, and ran screaming out of the room.

********************

Head Girl Hermione Granger and school reject/whore Virginia Weasley were sitting quietly by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, avoiding rude stares and chatting happily, when a very distressed Ronald Weasley ran into the room.

He was babbling incomprehensibly.

"It's always the worst for traitors to the family! Agony! Eight days! Oh my God! How did they find out? Who found out?? Hermione! Ginny! Merlin! _Ginny_!" He paused, staring at Ginny, and then ran out of the Gryffindor tower altogether, squealing his head off.

Hermione and Ginny waited and watched serenely as he made his grand exit and then waited till the curious onlookers had passed from the room until they burst out into unfettered laughter. 

Wiping tears from her eyes, Hermione turned to Ginny with a somewhat serious expression and said, 

"You know, he deserves every minute of this."

Ginny smiled as her mind briefly flickered to the night before.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. Ginny let a small smile creep over her lips, contemplating the inner turmoil Malfoy must have been going through – dead of night in the _Gryffindor_ common room with a _Weasley_ and a _mudblood_. Hell, for sure.

Hermione managed to open Harry and Ron's door fairly easily. One inside, they were able to charm the walls and air to add a little spook for later the next night, and train Professor Snape's 'borrowed' raven where to come each hour. When they stole quietly out at midnight, they made sure to leave the room in such a way the boys would be sure the raven had crashed through the window. The three of them were running through the corridor nearly doubling over in laughter when they heard the raven give the agreed upon 'caw' and loud crashes accompanied by a decent amount of swearing from the dormitory. Even Malfoy had tears streaming down his cheeks by the time they reached Hermione's Head Girl quarters.

Of course, any sign of amusement was quickly wiped off the ferret's face as they reached their destination.

Hermione would have gloated all night about her ingenious poem and quotes if Ginny hadn't pleaded tired and fled with Malfoy at her heels. She did have to admit though, the scheme was rather brilliant. Ginny would _never_ have thought to inflict Psevdomai Hades on him … she remembered when Mum and Dad did it to Fred in his sixth year after he lied to them about sneaking out with George to go drinking. But the supposed 'agony' for Fred hadn't been that serious … Hermione had assured them it would be quite different for _this _Weasley.

Malfoy had, of course, been rather displeased with Hermione's presence, and after much peacemaking on Ginny's part the trio had decided that they wouldn't be a trio at all – Hermione would help them with the first stages of the plan, but Ginny and Malfoy would be on their own to decide on Ron's punishment. 

"Just please make it good, ok?" Hermione had said, earnestly looking at Ginny.

"Oh, I will."

And she intended to. After all, she was the one seeking revenge here. Malfoy had already worked out the first day's 'torture' (it really wasn't _that_ bad, if you thought about it. Ron wouldn't think about it, though.) and it sent Ginny into fits of giggles just thinking about it. Oh yes. It was going to be a great week.

Draco could hear the blasted male weasel's screams from the opposite end of the castle in the Prefect's dorms, for Merlin's sake. He quickly smothered the smirk that had edged its way around his mouth, scowling at the twin Ravenclaw prefects who were drooling at him from across the room. He couldn't be bothered to flirt at the moment.

Staring aimlessly at his Transfiguration essay, he tapped his quill to the side of his cheek and contemplated the recent events.

Oh, this was going to be a great week. 

Even if he couldn't get all three of the Dream Team at once, he could at least get the Weasel. And was he ever going to _get _him. He almost felt sorry for the guy … almost.

He scowled at the thought of Hermione. The little know it all mudblood bitch had seemed almost as angry at Ron as Ginny, if not more so … the little nurse was more offended than anything. If he was totally honest, he'd admit that it was rather funny to watch the muggle-born get all worked up about it. Her frizzy brown hair bounced most unattractively when she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

But then, he was Draco Malfoy. He wasn't honest.

Tilting back in his chair, he gave a careless smirk. The plans he had for Ronald Weasley's Eight days of Agony were beyond exquisite. The were unspeakably marvelous. The thoughts of the ruddy, dirt-encrusted, muggle-loving weasel cowering in embarrassment and rage when he found him self subject to the plans in Draco's head … ah. Priceless. He'd probably even get one on Potty in the midst of all the confusion. Such comforting thoughts. If only the dynamic duo knew that the thoughts of their humiliation would ease his pain for months to come.

In addition, Weasley, Jr. had agreed to fix the relieving potion for him two extra times this week; seeing how much 'work' he was going to be doing. After all, they needed to be able to taunt her brother properly, right? The extra dosage _was _a little unorthodox because of the side effects (which closely resembled the effects of narcotics and other 'happy' drugs), but no matter. All the better for him. He'd be happy, out of pain, and reigning God in the Slytherin common room when they all found out who was behind the Ronald Weasley scandal.

And most of all (as if it could get better), he was thrilled to find that his lust for the little female weasel had abated a good deal. Sunday evening, after spending _six hours_ of male torture on the bed with her discussing their plans, he had gone back to Slytherin and got himself laid. _Merlin_, he thought happily, smiling in remembrance of the alluring brunette, whose name was escaping him at the moment. It had been ages since he had had a good fuck. Literally, ages … he was always in too much pain for sex. But after the relieving potion and the happy prospect of Ron's torture that day, he had been as painfree as was possible for him and in quite a good mood. Sex had not only been possible, but quite pleasurable.

With a little sweet talking, he'd be able to get the Weasley whore to bend the rules a bit and give him his reliever more often, consistently. 

Anyway, at least he had been able to establish the only thing he felt for the rebellious girl was pure lust – a lust that had now been slaked. When he saw her last night, he felt nothing more than the normal admiration. That's all it took – a good lay.

Yes, he was most certainly over the annoying redhead. _That's all it was – lust._ _She has no place in your mind or desires._ Draco swung himself out of the chair and sauntered back to his dorm. A twisted smile on his face, he flung open the door to find two curvaceous blonde Slytherins making out on his bed. Ah yes. Things were finally getting back to normal.

********************

It was Tuesday morning. Ronald Weasley had never been more terrified in all his seventeen years.

Large, dark circles hung from his exhausted sallow skin as he clung to Harry, pulling him from his bed as the two made their way slowly to the Great Hall. 

The night had been harrowing. Beginning with the last note at midnight, pandemonium had unleashed inside the little dorm that he shared with the great Harry Potter. The walls had started bleeding, the floor turned to water, the paintings all started choking simultaneously and recomposed themselves as zombies (a simple charm now that he thought about it, but deathly frightening at the time), and both their beds had nearly come to life with millions of ants marching under the sheets. High pitched, disembodied bloodcurdling screams bounced off the walls, and whenever they tried attracting someone's attention from the common room, they were ignored and given strange looks. A very trying night, to say the least.

But as Ron staggered to the Great Hall now with Harry fumbling blindly into a nearby wall, searching for his glasses in the depths of his robes, he felt strangely invigorated. Through the course of last night's events, he had gone from pure terror that someone had found out about what he had said about Ginny (they even got the _date_ of their argument correct, for Merlin's sake!) to nervous acceptance of an alternate scenario. Pushing all thoughts of his sister from his mind, he had been able to convince himself it was probably Fred and George's old Hufflepuff cohort, James Riles, trying to get back at him for turning them in at some random point in ancient history. The kid was too cowardly to actually put him through any 'agony' anyway. A couple charms on the walls and some spooky messages and he thought he'd give Ron Weasley a good scare. 

_That's right, it's nothing. Just some kid with no life trying bringing up an old grudge and attempting to 'punish' you for it._

Straightening himself up, Ron pushed open the doors, intending to show the world that Ron Weasley wasn't taken that easily. He aimed for the Hufflepuff table and began to stride briskly through the aisles.

But two steps through the door to the Great Hall, and he knew something was wrong.

********************

Harry finally found his glasses in a niche at the bottom of his robes he hadn't even known existed. He had been stumbling through the halls, hauled by his irate friend who didn't care whatsoever that he couldn't see a damn thing, and finally left to recover his vision at the entrance to the Great Hall.

When his glasses finally found their way to the bridge of his nose, Harry Potter let out the loudest scream anyone in Hogwarts had ever heard.

But no one heard it; they were all too busy staring in shock or screaming themselves.

Standing in the entrance to the great hall was Ronald Weasley, tall and proud, looking around confused and perched on a pair of fluffy red stiletto heels and squeezed into a tight, hot pink miniskirt and black tube top – hairy legs, man-thong and well muscled arms all quite disturbingly visible.

********************

Virginia Weasley thought she was going to have a heart attack.

If she had died, she would have died the happiest girl in England.

Standing in the doorway to the Great Hall was her brother, dressed as a flaming trans. The orange lipstick really added a nice touch, she had to say. "Matches his hair perfectly," Malfoy had said with a snigger the night before when they were putting the final touches on the time activated charm.

As she slowly dragged herself back onto the bench, grabbing at a nearby napkin to dry her soaking face and glancing at Hermione (who was rolling on the ground with a face blue from lack of air), she stole a glance at the ferret.

Sitting like a King at his throne, Draco Malfoy was tilting lazily back in his chair at the head of the Slytherin table. That ever-present smirk graced his aristocratic features as he folded his hands behind his head and joined in with the jeers and mock catcalls of his housemates. Waves of satisfaction emanated from his form, and Ginny didn't feel one ounce of pain.

Oh yes. He was enjoying this just as much as she was.

In fact, she really couldn't remember the last time she had seen the annoying prat that happy.

********************

Albus Dumbledore peered over the rims of his half-moon bifocals at the amusing sight before him. Standing in the ancient portal to the room wherein the finest magical education in the world was directed was a very perplexed looking redheaded male who seemed to be attired in the clothes of a muggle prostitute. 

It was to be expected.

Yesterday at dawn, Severus's raven, Brock, had delivered a cryptic message announcing the commencement of Psevdomai Hades for a certain Hogwarts student. As Headmaster, he of course must have been informed as he was sure Ms. Grang – or rather, the punishers, were aware of. He would feign ignorance.

But everyone knew that in truth, nothing at Hogwarts escaped his notice, and Albus Dumbeldore knew every intricate detail of this fascinating situation.

And quite frankly, the liar was in dire need of punishment. It appeared he would be getting his just due.

Yes, Albus had made his decision.

Gently tapping his spoon against the side of his crystal goblet, he rose to ancient feet and spread his arms stereotypically.

"Students! Young Wizards and Witches!" The riotous noise in the Great Hall began to lull as students recovered their voices and ceased chatter. Giving a final glance to Minerva, who was fanning a fainted Professor Flitwick, he received a nod of affirmation and continued to address the now silent student body.

"Children, thank you for your cooperation. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter … please take your seats." A clamour rose again. "_Yes_, Mr. Weasley _may_ take his seat, I see no problem." He panned a harsh gaze over the sea of inquisitive pupils. "Now. I believe we can continue breakfast as planned?"

The bubbles of Pandemonium began to simmer again, but Albus silenced them with a final gesture of his hands. "Before we begin, however, I would like to make an announcement regarding an archaic tradition that is observed here at Hogwarts.

"Psevdomai Hades is a tradition begun by our forefathers in the first ages of the wizarding world, and came to being first as a form of torture." A loud whisper ran through the students like a brief blast of wind rustling through the leaves of a dying forest. "It means, literally, the Liar's Hell. When a person has told an outrageous lie," Albus paused and looked pointedly at the most recent male Weasley to be entrusted into his academic care. "and deserves to be punished, those affected by his falsehood take it upon themselves to deliver the according 'Eight Days of Agony.' The punishment can be of any type – in modern society of course, torture is unheard of … but pranks with good morals are entirely up for game. Ergo, I would like to conclude on the note that this practice is not only tolerated here at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but also encouraged as a form of self-discipline. However, even as the punishers are to remain anonymous, I would like to remind them that all such discipline should be kept at a mature and non-obscene standard. Thank you."

Dumbledore eased back into his seat and watched with a smile as chatter burst out into his Hall. What a delightful twist on the New Year.

********************

Ginny glanced over at Malfoy, who was glaring at Dumbledore like he was ready to march up and rip the remaining hair on the old coot's head out. _Well, _I _didn't tell him._

Groaning, she turned to Hermione who was sitting one table down from Ginny's appointed seat of rejection. The bright young witch had suddenly developed a very intense interest in her black pudding and was avoiding Ginny's gaze at all costs.

Ginny rolled her eyes. _Oh well. Not like it does any harm. At least he's supporting it … but I can't promise we'll keep it clean._ She smiled devilishly and took an enormous bite out of her French toast. 

Somewhere at the boy's end of the table Ron let out a murderous howl of humiliation and sped from the Hall after one look in Lavender's compact mirror. Poor boy. She almost felt an inkling of pity for him, but not quite. He wouldn't be able to remove the charm himself, and for all he knew he was dressed normally (until he looked in a mirror). Everyone else just saw him as a flamboyant transsexual. She smirked.

It was going to be a great week.

********************

Virginia jumped happily onto the old swing in the seldom-used rose garden off the West Wing of Hogwarts. The sun was just beginning to set, and Malfoy was due any minute so that they could discuss tomorrows' excitement. Today had gone splendidly.

No matter what Ron tried, from covering himself up; to ripping off the clothes he saw on himself; to hiding in the shadows; he couldn't manage to conceal himself from his classmates' ridicule. She had never seen her brother sustain that colour red for so long – kind of impressive, actually.

_He must be so, flipping mad. _She didn't wish to be Harry for one minute right now, having to share a room with a flaming trans pouf who was in denial of himself. She sniggered childishly at the thought and jumped off the swing at the height of its ascent.

As she landed, Malfoy strolled around the hedge and wandered into the clearing as if the world revolved around him, the egocentric prick. By the looks of the sun, he was at least half an hour late … not that she minded. This was her favourite place on the Hogwarts grounds, and she was more than a little miffed to have to share it with the ferret.

Rising from her sprawled posture on the grass, she nodded in his direction and bid him sit. The snobby imbecile stuck his nose further up into the air, if possible, and proceeded to dust of a nearby brazen bench and seat himself on it in an exceedingly blue-blooded fashion. Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"So. Ferret."

"Weasel."

They held each others' gaze for a few moments before both of them burst into concurrent, irrepressible laughter.

Images of a blushing, miniskirt-clad Ron were running through both of their minds, and for each of them it was accompanied by a feeling of sweet vengeance and satisfaction.

Malfoy slowed his laughter and sent her a superior smirk, but she made no attempt to stop before she had thoroughly finished her laugh. She wasn't going to let him think he could control her with a glare.

Raising an interested eyebrow, he leaned back idly as was his custom and drawled, "Pleased, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny decided to ignore his sarcasm and instead sent him a brilliant smile. "Beyond, Mr. Malfoy." She curtsied dramatically.

Without losing his cool, he returned easily, "That curtsy was done entirely wrong. But regardless of your lacking manners, I'm sure you'll be quite pleased to see what I have in store for our dear friend tomorrow."

********************

It was Wednesday afternoon, after lunch, and Virginia was late for Potions. Again. _Fuck_, she thought irritably. _This is the third time in two weeks. Snape's going to have my head._

Stupid second years and their pranks. A couple Hufflepuffs had come into the Hospital Wing _just_ as the bell was sounding, completely covered from head to foot in purple spots.

Flying around a corner, she threw her hair over one shoulder and shuffled her books into her arms, regaining her balance as she screeched to a halt in front of the ominous, black dungeon door. Drawing a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, making a few tendrils of auburn hair jump, and pushed open the door.

To her everlasting surprise and relief, no one noticed she was late.

They were far too preoccupied for that.

********************

Draco couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard. 

Ronald Weasley, having regained his masculine dressing habits, had spent the majority of breakfast sulking. Draco had Herbology with the twit, followed by lunch and later Potions. Unfortunately, Snape hadn't been present at either lunch or breakfast, so Ron had gotten off scot-free all morning. _Well, we can't have that, now can we?_

At first Draco had been a bit worried the potion had worn off by now. But one look at Ron when he walked through the door to Advanced Potions this afternoon had ensured that it most certainly had not.

The tall redhead was standing in the middle of the aisle segregating the Gryffindors from the Slytherins, and he was swooning.

At the Potions Master.

At Professor Snape.

The professor, for his part, was backing away from the young man cautiously, and sending him the most withering looks any of the students had ever seen – and that's quite a statement in regards to Professor Severus Snape. 

"Mr. Weasley, please take your seat."

Ron giggled like a schoolgirl and twirled a piece of short hair around his finger, shifting his weight to one foot and glancing coyly back at Harry, who's facial colouration would have rivaled Ron's had he known what he was doing.

"Oh, but Professor Snape, I'd much rather stay up and talk to you…" Ron sauntered down the aisle, letting occasional giggles fall, and sending a very disturbing wink to Professor Snape.

"MR. WEASLEY! Stop this tomfoolery at once, and take your SEAT!" Professor Snape bellowed.

"Aww, poor Sevvie wevvie." Snape winced visibly. "What's the matter?" Ron had reached the professor by now and stretched out his hands to straighten the older man's robes. Snape recoiled in horror.

"Ronald Weasley, if you do not sit down_ immediately_ I will make _sure_ that the duration of your stay at Hogwarts will not only be longer than expected but also a veritable _hell_." Snape offered a smug sneer, the kind that normally made his students cower. It was his last resource, and if Ron didn't back off this ridiculous prank now, it was obvious Snape had no back up plan.

In response, Ron ran his fingers through his carrot-top and puckered his lips sensuously. "Oo, I like it dirty too Professor. If hell means you, count me in!" The boy continued advancing towards the Potions master, his body language sending only one message.

By this point the class was in uproarious laughter, and both sides of the room were stifling their amusement as much as was humanly possible to strain their ears for the next morsel of perverted flirtation.

Snape by this point had quite lost any colour he had ever had in his pallid skin. He was positively unnerved – and for the majority of the adolescents in the room, it was the first time they had ever seen him in such a state. Turning his head savagely while simultaneously beating Ron's paws off his chest, he sent a deep glower towards Harry.

"Do you have _anything_ you'd like to say, Mr. Potter? What exactly is the meaning of this? WEASLEY! Get OFF my robes NOW!" The potions master forcefully kicked the young man away from him and attempted to regain his composure and classroom, calmly smoothing his greasy back hair back into place and sending a disgusted leer to the redhead on the floor.

Ron was sniffling loudly. "But … but Severus! I thought what we had was special!"

Snape looked openly nauseous. "What _exactly _are you trying to infer, Mr. Weasley?"

An anonymous voice from the back of the room called "Aw, poor bloke, probably the first person to be attracted to him in years." The class erupted in laughter again.

Ron was still looking up at Snape with soulful eyes. "But what about last night, professor? What about _us_?"

Snape snapped back from searching for the unnamed insulter, and blanched, horrified. "Mr. Weasley. If you do not stop this ridiculous charade this instant, I will … I will …"

The class waited expectantly, but they never heard the extent of Snape's threat.

Ron jumped up with his hands clasped over his heart and a blissful smile on his face, crying "Oh Severus!" and threw himself wholeheartedly at the bewildered Potions master, who was at least six inches shorter than the gigantic Weasley.

The classroom fell into a deadened silence. A student had actually _touched_ Professor Snape. Not just touched, but embraced … straddled, for Merlin's sake!

Ron stood pressed against Snape, arms wrapped around his neck and legs spread wide over the older man's frame. "Oh Severus! I love you too!" And with that … Ronald Weasley planted a very sloppy, wet kiss on Professor Snape's cold, icy lips.

A few moments later, Ron was Immobilized against the wall, the female portion of the class as well as some males were either screaming bloody murder or were simply fainted, and a scarred-for-life Professor Severus Snape, Esquire was running for his life down the halls of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

********************

Thursday morning Ron woke to find himself covered from head to toe in bright, neon green spots, to go with a lovely mop of neon blue hair. Of course, he also woke to outrageous stories of an alleged affair between him and Professor Snape, to his utmost horror. He was forced to remain in bed most of the day after Colin Creevy showed him the footage he had taped of the incident.

Friday, as he was just beginning to get over the previous days' mortification, Ron was performing a simple spell in Charms only to find he had produced a phantom image of a naked woman through the tip of his wand. Every time he attempted to use his wand the rest of the day, some sort of pornography or humiliating insult would issue forth from the end of his previously trusty wand.

Saturday morning during breakfast he, uhh, expelled a rather large passage of wind in the middle of Dumbledore's morning salutation and announcement about Hogsmeade. The fart exploded into a vibrant cloud of azure-shaded gas behind him and squelched out the loudest fart sound imaginable. The unfortunate and colourful (as well as rancid) eruptions of gas continued throughout the day, causing Ron's face to be tinged to a permanent shade of vermilion. The stubborn boy did, however, insist on continuing with Harry and a strangely quiet Hermione to Hogsmeade as planned. After being kicked out of the sweets shop for stinking up the place, Hermione strangely found the need to run home red-faced, and neither of the boys could tell quite what had gotten into her.

Sunday, though, had to be the best yet. It had taken hours of coordination and planning on the part of our two pranksters extraordinaire, but the result was worth any and all amounts of time invested. Hermione, even though she had been told to ignore Draco and Ginny and had been enjoying herself all week, had managed to subtly pass them a message containing a clothing-repellant charm she had found. Draco had typically laughed himself silly when he had heard it, and, after a few seconds of convincing Ginny, the two had everything prepared for Ron's Sunday.

Each day, the specified curse/prank had been triggered as soon as Ron walked into the Great Hall. Either for sake of nostalgia or simply because the Great Hall accommodated the largest possible crowd to humiliate Ron in front of, Draco and Ginny had started his agony here each day.

And Sunday, as soon as Ron walked into the Great Hall, the new time-triggered charm had kicked in and all articles of clothing flew ten feet away from him.

Quite a sight.

It being a Sunday; all the teachers were off enjoying themselves in their own quarters, ideally absent. The entire student body was thus able to laugh at Ron's surprisingly (for such a large boy) small goods without the disciplinary repercussions from the faculty. Needless to say, the laughter didn't cease all day.

Ingenious timing, Draco had to admit.

As much as he tried, any garment Ron approached all day fled from him like moths from a light source. Quite amusing, really. The poor boy tried to stay in his dorm as much as possible, but the ever-innocent Hermione Granger astutely came up with creative ways to lure him from his chambers, for purposes of humiliation, of course. 

Poor Ron was definitely beginning to understand the meaning of 'agony' by this point.

********************

On Monday morning, after warily darting through the halls, Ron opened the door to the Great Hall rather optimistically. Passing through the entrance, he shouted, 

"Hey Harry, looks like the bugger ran out of ideas for today!"

Only it didn't quite come out as he planned.

His voice was several octaves higher than usual, and remained so for the rest of the day. His girly voice was the cause of a good deal of ridicule (something he had grown accustomed to over the past week). Snape's class in particular found the vocal mutation hysterical. The slimy professor himself was still acting a bit off from the previous week's events, and required that Ron sit out of his line of vision behind a cupboard for the duration of class – an obligation which, after seeing Creevey's photos, the extremely humiliated Ron was more than willing to comply with.

********************

Hermione had finally been able to usher the feminine-voiced Ron into his room, after much high-pitched squealing and protesting on his part towards his anonymous tormentors. He and Harry (with no help whatsoever from Hermione) had been on a largely unsuccessful quest to find the perpetrators of this Psevdomai Hades. Without their brain though, the Golden Trio would be more aptly named the Moronic Duo.

It was the last evening before the final day of Ron's punishment. Ginny and Draco were convening in a convenient alcove outside the Gryffindor common room, earning reproving glares from some nearby paintings.

"Are you sure this is going to work, Malfoy?"

Malfoy grinned evilly. "Do my plans ever fail, little weasel?"

She smirked back at him and threw a playful punch at his arm. For beginning the week in utter, dead abhorrence of each other (perhaps with a tad of sympathy on Ginny's side), they had ended it in quite amicable mutual hatred, but for purely social reasons. The ferret had grown on Ginny, and with his more regular reliever dosage, the pain of being around him was nearly bearable. Being around him so much had in fact, brutally heightened her threshold for pain.

Yes, for better or worse, they had become somewhat … dare she say the sacrilegious words … friendly over the week. Wasn't that a saying, anyway? _Through torture of a common foe, even enemies are united … _Something like that. But that pretty much described the radical change her relationship with the epitome of evil, Draco Malfoy, had undergone these last few weeks.

"No … or at least, they haven't yet." She returned. "But this is really important – if we don't pull this off, we won't have anything on him to keep him from running to Dumbledore with our names. And we did … kinda … break Dumbledore's rules about keeping it clean."

They both winced at the memory of McGonagall finding a very nude Ron huddling behind Harry Sunday afternoon.

Malfoy gave a careless shrug. "But we _have_ to tell Weasley who's done it. That's the best part." His face lighted up with that familiar, pure delight that had been an amaranthine presence on his face this last week. "That his tormentors are his little sister and worst enemy."

They exchanged odd looks at the reminder that they were enemies.

Stiffening, Ginny said, "Exactly. So. Are you ready to do this?"

"Have been for a while, Weasel. You're the one who's hesitating."

Ginny shot him a death glare and crept to the portrait of the Fat Lady, whispering the password and slinking into the common room with Malfoy at her heels. His customary grumbling about being in the Gryffindor tower haunted her steps as they made their way to Ron's dorm. 

Creaking open the door with the memorized password and counter-charm, she bid Malfoy wait in the doorway and sneaked over to Ron's bed. Pulling a small vial from the depths of her robes, she dusted a few drops onto the tip of his nose and then ran full tilt from the room, dragging Malfoy behind her.

********************

Draco leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb, watching Weasley's petite, feminine shape lurk stealthily through the room. He couldn't help but hold a certain respect for her after this week. Once he had managed (barely) to escape his sexual attraction to her, he soon found her personality to be enticing. Blasphemous though it may be, he enjoyed her company – as a person, if not as a girl. So few people these days could offer challenging, witty conversation. She actually had a brain, and was insanely fun to be around. According to her, it came from years of eluding her brothers' endless pranks.

He had had to catch himself more than once this week as he found himself laughing _with_ her instead of _at_ her. _The natural order of things is being horribly reversed_, he thought darkly.

But he couldn't be angry with her. She was too careless, too much fun – to damn stubborn.

Just then she sped like a bat out of hell from the dark room, grabbing his hand and pulling him from the Gryffindor Tower, the nasty place. He made sure to remember to distribute the cat hairs evenly as they hastened towards the entrance, though, no help from her.

Quite out of breath, he flattened himself against the outer wall of the tower, just to the right of the Fat Lady. She positioned herself likewise on the right side, and, giving him a slight nod, waited with bated breath for the subject of their animosity.

Minutes passed, and the two stood stock still until Draco couldn't resist the temptation to tease her about her face colour – how could one pass up this subject when interacting at all with a Weasley, really – which was quite red with anticipation by that time. 

Holding his breath, he managed to redden his noble, bleached, pallor to an interesting shade of crimson. The little redhead burst into giggles that sent her curls bouncing and her body shaking in an attempt to silence the amusement. A smile graced his face as he let go the breath, pleased to have such power of her.

Just then, in a sudden burst of passionate fervor, Ron Weasley jumped through the portrait with a glazed look in his eyes. Weasley's giggles disappeared instantly, and, shrinking into the shadows, she motioned for Draco to grab the camera and follow the entranced older Weasley.

Ron was stumbling rather aimlessly down the hall, muttering under his breath and randomly dropping down on all fours to sniff something.

Draco sent Virginia a look and restrained a chuckle at the disgusted expression she held for her brother.

After fifteen minutes of trailing Ron, they reached their destination.

Even Draco Malfoy had never been this deep into the dungeons. He guessed that Filch must be out doing his rounds in the gardens, to leave Mrs. Norris here like this. Or at least, he _supposed _that this was Filch's 'office.' The filthy, rank room was stacked with books and various instruments of torture. A smirk twisted its way onto his lips as he remembered that Filch was a mere squib, beneath him in so many ways.

Speaking of being below him …

Ron had been sightlessly prowling the room, driven by the potion Ginny had doused him with. The elixir was an interesting mix of pheromones, romance stimulants and … several of Mrs. Norris's hairs. 

It was brewed for one purpose and one purpose only … to incite an insatiable lust in Ron Weasley for Mrs. Norris.

********************

It was dawn, and Ginny was sitting on the roof of Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy.

It might have been considered romantic, watching the sunrise and all, had it not been A) with Draco Malfoy and B) he had not been poking her mercilessly with a fork and giggling like a maniac.

They were feasting on the spoils of last nights dinner, prepared graciously by the house-elves from the kitchens. Most of the poor creatures lived in fear of Malfoy, so acquiring the food had been a simple task.

But really, who could focus on food at a time like this?

Right about now, Ron was probably waking up naked on the floor of his room, covered in cat hair, with a nose about thirty centimeters long, and wondering what the hell happened.

The mere thought made Ginny burst into laughter again, much to the delight of the already hooting Malfoy.

"Weasel, I never thought I'd say this, but you're not half bad. For a Weasley." Draco gave her an approving glance and lifted his hand for a high five, which she slapped solidly.

"Damn right!" She returned him his own, trademark smirk. "But I suppose you're not all that bad either. For a Malfoy."

Malfoy's face sobered immediately, and gave her one of those penetrating, Malfoy gazes. He seemed to be summing her up, evaluating what this exchange of half-way decent words meant and represented. His eyes spoke to her, almost as clearly as an audible voice – so that she could understand. If he let her in, into this inner, friendly Malfoy that she reckoned very few knew, would she betray him? Would she make the pain worse? Or would she make it go away? Was she worth it?

And for her part, she wondered if it was wise to become sociable with Draco Malfoy. After all, he was … Dracy Malfoy. But in all honesty, he was the only one this entire year who had pegged her for something more than a whore – and had believed her when he found out she wasn't.

She could only hope her eyes were capable of sending messages like his.

A sly grin broke out over his face suddenly, as if to answer her silent question.

He pelted her with a fishstick and scrambled to his feet, running across the rooftop with her close behind. She lugged the bag filled with priceless pictures of Ronald Weasley performing unspeakable acts of bestiality over her shoulder and simultaneously attempted to fling salsa at the fast retreating Malfoy. Friends? Not quite … mutual enemies, perhaps. At least it was one step closer to ending the pain – both hers and his.

********************

Harry really shouldn't have been that surprised, to be entirely fair. After all, it was part of the Psevdomai Hades tradition for the victim to be cursed with an especially long nose (to mimic the history book lesson all young witches and wizards learned about the old puppet Pinocchio) on the final day of the Eight Days of Agony. 

Though being butt naked and covered in cat hair was admittedly, a little disturbing. Even Ron couldn't explain that. 

He took a quick shower and put on the wide-brimmed, cowboy hat that George had got him for Christmas a few years ago in a vain attempt to cover his outrageously long nose. This done, Ron snatched an extremely wary and reluctant Harry and made his way to the Great Hall. 

_Nothing'll happen to day old chap. It's the 8th day – nothing ever happens on the 8th day, just this stupid long nose._

Feeling somewhat confident, he let Harry scurry through the doors ahead of him and then took a deep breath before walking through himself.

Nothing.

Ron exhaled and grinned. _That's right, you fucker._ For the umpteenth time that week, he scanned the hall in a futile attempt to uncover his antagonist.

Throwing off the ridiculous hat, he grinned wider and sat down beside Harry and Hermione, trying to ignore his nose (which kept knocking over the pumpkin juice pitcher). Hermione (who had been a real bitch all week, without explanation) said nothing, but got that redfaced look about her like she did when she was trying not to laugh. _Whatever_. And Harry was trying to make unconcerned conversation with a very concerned looking Neville.

Just as things seemed to be going just fine, Ron realized his feet had enlarged to the size of small dogs (nearly four times their usual size, that is) and his hands were rapidly following suit. He groaned in defeat.

********************

Ron slammed the portrait shut sucked in a sharp breath before letting loose a string of obscenities. _Fucking, bloody, cucksucking wench! _ Madame Hooch wouldn't let him play the first game of the Quidditch season on account of "overly large extremities." He was the fucking captain, for Christ's sake!

First game – against Hufflepuff, no less! An easy win! And the team _captain_ couldn't be there. Just because some sickfuck had decided to make his life living hell for a week. He slammed his huge fist into a nearby wall. There wasn't even anyone here for him to complain to, it being a game night and all.

He looked down forlornly at his humongous feet and hands, then glanced in the mirror at his insanely massive head and foot-long nose. Tears formed in his eyes – _when was enough enough? What had he done to deserve this?_

He trudged up the stairs and down the hall to his dorm. He turned the corner.

Holy motherfucking, bloody hell. 

Holy shit. 

Holy fucking shit. 

This wasn't happening.

If Ron's jaw could have hit the floor, it would've.

Standing in front of his door was his little sister, sweet but stubborn Virginia Weasley … hand in hand with … Draco Malfoy?! Evil incarnate?! Slytherin pimp?! What the _fuck_?!

And it wasn't hand in hand, like, romantic. It was hand in hand, like, We're-bloody-well-out-to-get-you-as-an-unstoppable-duo,-dumbass. 

His sister and his worst enemy! How -- how had she known?? And … Malfoy?! How could she stoop that low? A nagging voice in the back of the head asked him the same question – how could _he_ have stooped so low?

Remorse flooded him as he stared in utter terror at the malevolent faces of his punishers. 

But that wasn't the half of it.

Cat hair … naked on the floor … dreams of Mrs. Norris …

Surrounding his tormentors – his sister and arch-nemesis – were photos. Dozens of photos – a hundred, at least – pasted onto the doorjamb, littered on the floor. Photos of red hair, naked skin, and extremely inappropriate positions with a cat – and not any cat, _Mrs. Norris! _– that constituted blackmail for the entire life for this Ron Weasley.

Trembling, he lifted his eyes to his smug enemies. Virginia was sending him a falsely snarky look and crooning, "Enjoy your week, Ronniekins? I guess whores aren't as stupid as they're made out to be, huh?"

********************

********************

A/N: *pants, out of breath* goddamn, that was long. hehe … hoped y'all liked it. man, that was sooooo long. It was even longer before (if that makes you feel any better) and I cut it down so I just summarized each day instead of going through it. Anyway, it better make up for the long wait. =) *beams proudly* I'm insanely proud of that Psevdomai Hades (which does actually mean Liar's Hell in Greek) thing, hehe. Review, review, review!

And now, my extra disclaimers, because I'm such a thief:

The clothes repelling charm is from a fanfic I read on ff.net … sometime … and I don't really remember where. Whoever it was, I am crediting you! It's not mine! If anyone knows whose fic this charm comes from, please tell me, and I will award him or her proper credit.

All those million-esque liars quotes are from the following:

Never chase a lie. Let it alone, and it will run itself to death. *Lyman Beecher

A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth. Aesop 

Every violation of truth is not only a sort of suicide in the liar, but is a stab at the health of human society. * Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Good lies need a leavening of truth to make them palatable. * William Mcilvanney 

A liar should have a good memory. * Quintilian 

False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. * Socrates 

All men are frauds. The only difference between them is that some admit it.H. L. Mencken (1880 - 1956)

And none speaks false, when there in none to hear. (couldn't find the author)

I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted: I said in my haste, All men are liars.   
Author: Bible. Source: _Psalms (ch. CXVI, v. 11)_

Dare to be true: nothing can need a lie; A fault which needs it most, grows two thereby. author: George Herbert Source: _Church Porch_

Shew me a lyer, and I'le shew thee a theefe. [Show me a liar, and I'll show thee a thief.]   
Author: George Herbert Source: _Jacula Prudentum_

Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle that fits the all. author: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. Source: _Autocrat of the Breakfast Table _

The cruelest lies are often told in silence. Author: Robert Louis Stevenson Source: _None_

"A boaster and a liar are cousins" Author: Anonymous (Proverb) 

No one is such a liar as the indignant man - Friedrich Nietzsche -German classical scholar, philosopher and critic of culture, 1844-1900.

You can best reward a liar by believing nothing of what he says. Author: Aristippus Source: _None_

A liar will steal and a thief will kill - African-American Proverb

A man is never more truthful than when he acknowledges himself as a liar - Mark Twain, American humorist, writer and lecturer, 1835-1910

A man of such obvious and exemplary charm must be a liar. *Anita Brookner

The liar's punishment is not in the least that he is not believed, but that he cannot believe anyone else.George Bernard Shaw. Irish comic dramatist and literary critic. 1925 Nobel Prize for Literature,1856-1950

It takes a wise man to handle a lie. A fool had better remain honest. author: Norman Douglas

The desire of a man is his kindness: and a poor man is better than a liar. *The sacred scriptures of Judaism and Christianity

A lover's moon soars clear and bright, guiding true love throughout the night.  
But a liar's moon lurks misty and gray, scheming to drive true love away. - Japanese proverb

Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of hell. Author: Homer (Smyrns of Chios) Source: _The Iliad (bk.IX, l. 412), (Pope's translation)_


	9. Chapter 9: Unprecedented Pain

A/N:  Wow.  I'm officially the worst writer to ever write at ff.net.  

My computer, has quite literally, been dead for the past month and a half.  I've received so many emails asking where chapter 9 is, because in the summary it said it was up … which was true … I had posted the last chapter before my computer went ker-plop.  But whatever, due to some incomprehensible feat of technology, it didn't go up, and so here I am a month later begging your forgiveness.  I'm just going to copy and paste the post that I (thank heaven) saved before everything went black.  Here you are:

************************************************************************************

hello! I'm back!  *tears up* your reviews were sooooooo amazing.  Thanks especially to Kjata, who made my life with her flattering review.  Also, thank you to everyone who sent me such happy emails.  I'm so glad so many people like this fic – I'm personally in love with it. =)

-- feel free to email or IM me … or just review, hehe.  I'd love to have 200 reviews by chapter 10 (hint hint).

Xangelicfirex@yahoo.com

AIM: xfire Angeliquex

My last chapter was awesomely received, but it also strayed more into humor … I promise I'll get serious in this chapter.  After all, a mortal curse and inbred animosity isn't exactly funny.  Ron snogging Professor Snape, however, is, and I simply couldn't help myself.

Kisses to: KatieK, jane riddle, lxs234, Lady Malfoy, Lil-frankie14, FemmeDraconis, Ally, niiri, Big-Red2006, Emma, Dot Dot Dot, Madison27, SarkLover, Karlin88, Charmed-Goddes-07, amsev, Crystal Moon Magic, Wizzabee, Katie27, Hermione15, Petetraj, ana, Darcy16, Lady LizZ, Lady Ananas, Dru Sharpeye, Babs5, babysb, Angels Exist, sabacat, thePixiecomplex, tattoodragonz, NYC1313, Sesshoumaru5, el chikita joules, Thaelia 15, Kaitie, D-O-U-B-L-E I-M-P-A-C-T (love the username, btw), SiNg SoNg24, xangel-luvx, KawaiiRyu, Alice28, ForbidenMaggiks, Alice28, Kawaii Tropical Oasis, and Green-Eyed Stranger .  You are _amazing_!  (wow, now that I've typed them all that, that's A LOT of people who like my fic! Y'all make my world.  Thanks so much)

Extra big kisses to:

beth – your review made me laugh! I had to thank you for taking all that time to find my story again, lol. I'm so happy you're enjoying my fic … yay!

Ilana – my ultimate florida homie.  What would I do without you?

OffWhite – I'm so psyched about Engraved in Eternity.  Here's to us!  Thanks for continuing to read this one =)

Kjata – thank you sooooo much for your ultra-flattering review.  You brightened my day – I only I hope I really can live up to what you think I'm capable of!  Thanks so much!

Dirt Is Yummy – I had to thank you for reading all the way through and reviewing =) you're amazing.  lol, and I love your username.

GEmory – my coolest ever repeat reviewer =)

  
Oh oh and check out the two new fics I've posted as well.  They're kickass, I promise.  

Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish Harry Potter was mine so I could sue the poor little kids who forget to put disclaimers in their fictions. But unfortunately, I do not have that happy power. J.K. Rowling does, but I'm sure she's nice enough to let a slip like a forgotten disclaimer pass.

Allrighty, here we go!

Chapter 9: Unprecedented Pain 

"I heard that you were feeling ill, headache, fever and a chill. I came to help restore your pluck 'cos I'm the nurse who likes to fuck!" Parvati pursed her lips erotically as her posse erupted into fits of inane giggles.  

Ginny gritted her teeth.  _Jesus Christ, do they ever come up with anything new?_  She had heard that stupid, fucking rhyme at least a hundred times since school started.  Only now did she have something to combat it with.

Covered in ink and laden with newspapers, Ginny casually set down her load on the table outside the Great Hall and pulled out a handkerchief, contemplating the slut in front of her.  She calmly wiped her face and smoothed her robes, deftly picking up the first newspaper in the pile and tossing at Parvati.

"Tsk, tsk, Parvati, it seems the queen of gossip is strutting around with old news.  Haven't you heard?  Or were you too busy faking orgasms for Snape so you could maintain the semblance of intelligence?"

Parvati gaped, attempting to discern whether or not she had been insulted.  She gave up, shrugged and glanced down at the paper.

Ginny smiled at Parvati's shriek and immediate hushed chatter to her clones.  Grabbing another stack of the heaven-sent newspapers, she proceeded to the Ravenclaw common room to discharge another load of freedom.

After Hermione and Harry revived Ron last night following Ginny and Draco's little visit, the poor boy had immediately sat down and written a lovely, long apology letter to the whole school.  Justin Finch-Fletchley (the same prat that had apparently published a searing article on underage prostitution at the beginning of the year that she had conveniently missed), had approached her red-faced that morning and inquired if she'd like the privilege of delivering this issue of _Hogwarts Weekly_ to the school.  Ron's remorseful face sighed up at her from the freshly printed pages, and of course she had agreed happily.

Perhaps now Hogwarts would realize Virginia Weasley was not a girl to be messed with.

************

All in all, it was a delightful week.  Although no one approached her on their knees, groveling in heartfelt apology, she did receive approving nods and some muttered apologies.  For the first time since school started, she actually had a decent conversation with someone other than Madame Pomfrey.  After realizing what had happened, the majority of the Gryffindors had rushed to Ginny's side and promptly shunned the disloyal Ron.  The boy's Psvodomai Hades seemed to be never ending now as her house-mates picked up the responsibility. This week alone had left him with Jelly-Legs, Burning Crotch, and Incurable Itch.  Ginny began to feel … supported, but certainly not befriended.  If her banishment from Gryffindor had taught her anything, it was the superficiality of people in general.  They had made it quite clear that their friendship was a transient thing and occurred only when it suited them.  _Loyalists, indeed._

Truth be told, the only person in Gryffindor she had truly regained friendship with was Hermione. Hermione had been amazing; and the two of them had spent nearly every waking moment together since Ron's downfall, which Hermione was nicknaming "The Conquest of the Weasel."  

Hermione was the only one who still loved Ginny Weasley.  _I guess you don't come through something like that and still have friends_, Ginny thought as she returned a shallow smile to Lavendar Brown.  

But in between rediscovering her best friend, avoiding Harry and Ron and bitching out the cads that _still_ considered her inferior for working, she had developed quite an interesting … tolerance for a certain ferret.

Very few people were let into the confidence of the truth about Ronald Weasley's Psvedomai and tormentors.  Hermione, Xavier Miaskotein (Malfoy's creepy Slytherin best friend), and Bronwyn Paris (some Slytherin bitch …) were the only ones who knew.  Ginny was quick to notice that her choice of confidants was limited to one, very trustworthy and very honorable young lady.  _His_ choice were two vile, evil-looking miscreants that were completely untrustworthy and conniving.  Crabbe and Goyle probably know too … s_tupid prick_.

All the same, for some unholy and profane reason that she couldn't even begin to understand, she and Malfoy had grown quite … heaven forbid … chummy.  It had been rather unnerving at first, but at the same time natural.  _Mutual enemies … hmmm_.

After the morning spent on the rooftop and the sidesplitting 'conversation' they had conducted with Ron, and pretty much her whole revenge in general had grown a new respect in her for the boy.  

_Speaking of the devil_ … Ginny's lips curved into a contented smirk as Malfoy rounded the corner, flanked by his massive bodyguards.  She couldn't help but be happy to see him.

He turned his head, meeting her gaze.  Ginny bit her lip, waiting for the wave of pain to pass.  She had become accustomed to it; and as soon as it had hit, it was gone.  She leaned back in her seat confidently, sneering at the arrogant young man who towered over her small frame.

His normally cold grey eyes danced with mischief as he peered down at her.

"Ah, Miss Weasley, what a surprise finding you here."  He gestured magnanimously at the Great Hall.

She smirked.  "Indeed.  In the Great Hall, on a Saturday.  What a coincidence, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy chuckled and dismissed Crabbe and Goyle to rummage for food with a snap of his fingers.  He fell into a nearby chair gracefully, kicking his feet up onto the table in front of her.

Ginny made a face.  "Malfoy, get your bloody shoes out of my face.  No telling where they've been."

He smirked and waggled them closer.  "No, no telling.  I'd ask you to clean them up for me, but that'd be defeating the purpose, wouldn't it?  Dirt cleaning dirt?" He yelped and snatched his feet away quickly as Ginny pinched the sensitive skin below his knee. 

"Owwww!" He yelped unhappily, glaring at her.  "Are you _trying_ to make it more painful?"

She was about to shoot him a scowl when that dratted concern washed over her again. She immediately sprang to her feet to inspect the damage she had inflicted, stretching out his leg cautiously as she clucked maternally and openly cursed herself for her short patience with him.

She finally convinced herself that he would live and was about to resume her seat when she noticed he hadn't moved for the duration of her examination and was smiling up at her with an irritating sort of happiness.

"What?"  She huffed.  "Aren't you the one supposed to be in constant pain?  Wipe that smile off your pointed little ferret-face."

He laughed openly now.  "You are _so_ easy to get going, Weasley.  Rather funny to watch, actually.  You become an entirely different person when all that healer rubbish comes out.  Pleasant change from the usual, hot tempered weasel we all have to put up with every single day of our miserable lives."  He sighed dramatically.

Ginny rolled her now normally coloured eyes and chucked a pear at him.  "Just remember who's giving you that potion, Malfoy."

He gasped in mock distress.  "You wouldn't!"

"You know damn well I would."

He laughed again and continued a scrutiny of his perfectly manicured fingernails.  "So, are you going to the match tomorrow?"

Ginny smiled.  "A chance to watch my brother get his ass kicked by Slytherin?  Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Draco's eyes widened in an amusing mixture of shock and respect.  "You know, if I had never met you before, I might have thought you were a Slytherin.  But then I suppose I would have noticed all that abhorrent hair of yours and realized that power doesn't come in that colour…"

Virginia's eyes darkned dangerously as she said quietly, "And to think I just gave you an extra dose of Reliever to help you for tomorrow's game.  Tsk, tsk."  She leant over towards him, her nose inches away from his. "Why Malfoy, did you mean, _this_ abhorrently coloured mess?" She flicked a fiery lock into the space between their faces.  She bit her lip and tilted her head slightly.  "Why, I like it.  It makes me different from all those other …" she leant in closer to his ear, close enough that her lips were brushing the sensitive skin between his earlobe and neck and so that her breath tickled his hair.  "… nasty purebloods who look like exactly the same, inbred, blond clones day after day."

She pulled back and smiled before rising smoothly to her feet and walking out.  "You had better come to the hospital wing after the game, Malfoy," she called over her shoulder.  "Your appointment still stands, and the extra I gave you today will have completely worn off by then.  You'll be just like you are any other Sunday.  Don't be late, dearest!"  And with that, she sashayed through the door and out of his line of sight.

************

_Holy fuck._  Malfoy crossed his legs self consciously and ran his hands through his platinum hair.  Did she have any idea the effect she had on him?  That was, quite possibly, the sexiest thing he had ever seen.  He sighed in the memory of her short Gryffindor red skirt riding up her pale legs, her top gaping in a delicious way that made him want to tear it off her perfect shoulders, her full, red lips pouting and breathing hot, seductive air into his ear … 

He groaned in defeat.  He didn't know if he could find a sufficient Slytherin whore tonight to top _that_.

************

Slytherin won the match on Sunday.  Ginny was thrilled … pathetic really, that it had gotten to the point that even the fiercely loyal Ginny would switch sides like that.  And of course, Gryffindor rallied to Ron and Harry's side as soon as the game began.  But she really didn't have the energy to sulk about it.  _Let them reward him for being a bastard.  He'll learn soon enough when he's dumped into the real world next year._

But thrill wore off quickly.  She had waited for Malfoy in the hospital wing for nearly five hours afterwards – the game had ended at six-thirty, and she had finally closed up around eleven, at which point she was positively frantic.  The boy had never gone this long without his potion – the pick-me-up she had given him the day before had surely worn off by then.  She had even seen him begin to lose strength during the game.  By then he should have been feeling like the usually shit he felt like every Sunday.  So where the hell was he?

Well, he never showed up, and Ginny spent a worried night tossing and turning.  Ridiculous! Her, Virginia Weasley, losing sleep over a stuck up prat like Malfoy!  She couldn't believe herself.  Absolutely pathetic.  Her temporary feelings of amity towards him from the day before quickly evaporated and she found herself quite fed up, all memories of Ron and sweet vengeance far lost.

And so she had worked straight through Monday, making a point of it to not even look for him in the halls or at meals.  She figured he'd drag himself into the hospital wing sooner or later, begging for relief.

But he never came.

On Tuesday she couldn't lie to herself any longer, and the healer inside her began to scream at her for being so thoughtless.  She searched the school for him; looked for him in all her classes.

But he wasn't there.

By Wednesday she was starting to get nervous.  She asked the Gryffindors if anyone had seem him lately, and only got laughing responses that they hoped his absence meant death.  She cringed inwardly, unsure of her sudden change of heart for the nasty ferret.

On Thursday, she stooped to the level of approaching that disgusting slut, Bronwyn.  She walked slowly down the hall to the Ancient Runes class, knowing the girl was there, not having any idea what to say.

Her brain ran through a mental rehearsal.  "Uh, hey, Bronwyn, right?  We've been mortal enemies forever, I know, but I was just wondering if by chance you knew where my _other_ mortal enemy, Draco Malfoy could be?"  Yep, that'll work.  _Stupid.__  So stupid._

When she finally built up the nerve to knock on the door and request that Ms. Paris be excused for a moment on hospital business (praise the gods for that little disk Dumbledore had given her), the tall girl stalked out of the class and glared at her with an unmatched annoyance as she perched on stiletto heels whose only support could be pure demonic magic.  Her heavy eyeliner quirked in question as Ginny fumbled for words.

"No, I don't know where Draco is."  She sighed discontentedly.  "He didn't seem quite right Sunday night,  after sex.  I mean, he's always been kind of gentle, which is weird, but he was almost … hurt, I guess, on Sunday night.  Weird.  Yea, but I haven't seen him since."

Ginny winced visibly.  Definitely didn't need to know that.  She cleared her throat nervously.  "Oh, I had no idea you two were …"

Bronywn laughed maliciously.  "No, no, sweetie, it's not like that at all.  Slytherin don't do that whole cutsey 'boyfriend girlfriend' thing.  We do sex.  And me and uh, Vanessa, I think, were the ones that night."

Yea, that was most certainly on a need to know basis.  "Umm… thanks.  Anyone else I might ask?"

Bronwyn considered this.  "Pansy might know, the little slut clings to the poor guy like a leech.  Maybe ask Blaise or Xavier … I'd suggest Crabbe and Goyle, but they're usually so stoned they forget his name if they don't seen him for two days."

Ginny nodded in thanks and turned to leave.  Besides the need to vomit, the conversation had offered no solutions whatsoever.  And there was no way in hell she was going to ask Blaise Zabini or Miaskotein.  Ms. Paris was about all she could take, thank you.

Friday Morning, Virginia was waiting outside the Slytherin Common Room door for Blaise Zabini.  God damn her conscience.  

But it turned out he didn't know anything either.  Malfoy seemed to have bloody well disappeared.  Goddamn him.  Did he have any idea the trouble he was causing?

By Sunday morning, Ginny was completely consumed with guilt and paranoia.  Perhaps it was her fault?  Perhaps she had said something or done something at the quidditch  match that had driven him to … something?  Perhaps he had died from some untreated wound that she had failed to notice?

She had finally given in and told Madame Pomfrey, who had of course already known.  Sad that her healing instincts had been kicked on high all week because of _him_ (selfish little prick) and her thoughts had been like an open book for the old nurse to read.  _Ugh_.

Hermione, more than a little miffed at being ignored all week, was also given a toned down version of the story.  And naturally, Dumbledore knew by lunchtime.

And yet he still was nowhere to be found.

Ginny took all three days off school Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of the next week to wait in the hospital wing, thinking perhaps she'd missed him sometime during the day the previous week.  This would surely be the first place he'd come.

And so it happened that she was sitting at her desk Wednesday morning, furiously scribbling the Potions notes she was missing and thinking pointlessly about what exactly she should be doing.  If Malfoy never showed up, what on earth would happen to her?  This gnawing worry would eat her alive.  She gritted her teeth.  He had better un-disappear, and he had better do it _soon_.

It was just then that the hospital wing door opened.  Except, no one walked through.  

Ginny blinked her eyes a couple of times and watched curiously as the door handle turned itself and shut the door quietly.  _That's it, love_.  _You've lost it_. _All this worrying has driven you absolutely bonkers.  It was bound to happen._

And then, just as she was about to go brew some more coffee to clear her senses, one solitary drop of blood fell from nowhere in the air beside the door.

Virginia jumped to her feet, her mouth going completely dry from the eerie sensations creeping along her skin.  That 'something-is-not-right' feeling hung in the air, and she felt her stomach clench and then slowly drop to the pit of her gut as her eyes dilated and morphed.  

"DRACO!"

She didn't even pause to think about the atrocity she had committed by using that name … the first time it had ever escaped her lips.

She sprinted over to the door, her bare feet slapping on the cold tile.  As she slowed down to the empty space before her, she reached her hands out, tentatively feeling for something solid.

"Draco, oh gods, I know you're there … say something … _shit!_"  Ginny plummeted to the ground as wave upon wave of searing agony racked her body.  She held her breath and waited for them to stop, but they didn't.  Tears pouring down her face, she dragged herself back up to a shaky stance.  She reached out a hand.

Another cold shock of pain whizzed through her arm as she touched him.  The fiery ache pulsed steadily in her body, and for the first time, she felt exactly what he was going through.  How did he do it?  How did he live?  She could barely stand upright.

Sobbing, she reached for his other invisible shoulder and attempted to guide him towards the nearest bed, trying her hardest not to lean on him for her own relief.  Finally, the invisible body that she knew was there found the cold sterility of the hospital bed.  She crumbled in a tortured heap on the floor, genuinely worried her body was going to start exhibiting physical signs of the torture manifesting itself in her soul.

Gingerly, she rose back to her feet and wiped the tears away, forcing every ounce of discipline she had to fight the pain and hold her own.  She opened her eyes and looked down.

In one slow, deliberate gesture, Malfoy tore off the invisibility cloak that was covering him.  She screamed.

Virginia let out a horrible, blood-curdling scream that pierced the cold, clean silence of the hospital wing.  It was a scream of shock, of pain, and of utter helplessness.  Once again she found herself on the ground, literally floored by the suffering contained in his thin body.  The scorching waves of unthinkable torture assaulted her body from all sides, promising no relief.

She opened her eyes slowly, swallowing the pain and trying to let her sense of duty direct her.  From her position on the floor, she could see one, bloody hand hanging limply off the edge of the bed.  Dark, purple gashes sunk into it, and blood dripped from every contour of its usually immaculate ivory finish.  The nails had been ripped off, and she could feel the acid-like air ripping into his nail-beds as if they were her own hands. 

With all the remaining will power she had, she ripped her head away and stood shakily to her feet, turning her back on him and running as fast as she could to her desk to grab the potion that had been waiting for him all week.  The pain pounded its fists into her back, stabbing her with a million daggers and dragging her back to his bedside.

She gripped the bottle with two hands as she looked down at a boy who had lived in a world of high-bred luxury, of money and class.  A boy who was cold and ruthless.  A boy who had gone out of his way to help her regain her dignity.  

The bloodied and gore-soaked cloak lay in a crimson mess at his feet.  Rags of what were once clothing hung off his emaciated body and were barely visible; entirely saturated with blood.  At first glance, one would have thought that it wasn't a man that lay in the bed, but a life-size dummy, painted completely red. 

The blood was everywhere.  She had thought it had been bad before, but this … It clung in bitter beads to the strands of his usually perfect hair, it dripped from his eyelashes and covered his face, seeped out of pores and flowed from gaping wounds.  All colours – bright red, vermillion, crimson, scarlet, burgundy, purple, and black, plastering him in a sheet of grating reality.  His neck was slit from chin to collarbone, and dark gore leaked from every gash.  Old scars littered his body, but they had now opened with sinister fervour, trapping him in an inescapable world of pain and blood.  His arms were two long series of deep lacerations, and pus built in the creases of his elbows – she could tell they were infected.  His usually athletic and chiseled chest was torn open, skin seeping with blood and bones piercing through the soft skin of his stomach.  A dark object was lodged in his bellybutton, and his breathing was short and shallow.  She couldn't even bring herself to detail the rest of his body, it was all the same.  All horribly mutilated, all hellishly defaced and butchered.  She grimaced at his toes, smashed and forlorn at the end of his long, twisted legs.  A single, solitary patch of pale skin peeked out at her from under one of his legs.  She drew a sharp breath.  It was the place she had pinched him not a week before.  

And it was the only part of his body that was not drenched in blood and oozing with pain.

Gulping back her tears, which she was being careful to catch in the tails of her blouse so as not to let their salt burn his wounds, she leant down and as gently as possible tilted his mouth open.  His eyes forced themselves halfway open and he peered at her through crusty, dried blood from darkly bloodshot eyes.  She could feel the tears stinging in her own eyes as her fingers slipped on his lubricated red skin.  

He made no move to stop her, but coughed, hacking up blood and Merlin knows what else onto his already dissolved shirt.

"Shh …" Her voice quaked precariously.  Tucking her hand under his neck, she supported his mouth and poured the elixir in.  

He closed his eyes.  She mimicked him, and as she focused on him, she could feel the cooling relief slide down her own throat.  A tiny, nearly intangible force to fight the overwhelming odds of pain and anguish that were plaguing his body.  

Ginny stood up and looked down at her now blood-soaked shirt.  She couldn't bring herself to care.  A thin line of blood traced her jawline where a bit of his cough had caught her, and it's insignificance in comparison loudly mocked her.  She choked back another sob and swept a light hand across his brow, attempting to wipe away some of the blood.  To her horror, a whole new flood simply replaced the puddle she splashed off.  It was a constant flow.  The tears flowed hotly now, and she just continued to smooth his nearly liquid forehead and pray to Merlin that he'd be ok.  She sent a subconscious page to Madame Pomfrey, but it was unlikely the mediwitch would respond for at least two hours.  Of all the days for her to  visit St. Mungo's today.

Malfoy (yes, it was still Malfoy.  She wouldn't allow herself that indulgence again) coughed slightly again and she flinched, straightening briefly to summon a chair.  Within a few seconds she was sitting down, doing her best to heal what few unhealable wounds there were.

"We… Weasley?"

Ginny jumped at the abrupt sound of his weak voice.  It seemed an unreal antilogy that this gory figure was even capable of speaking.  It was a divine miracle he had even been able to drag himself here from wherever the hell he had been.

Her abrupt movement caught in a channel of skin along his eyebrow and he groaned in pain.  

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry!"  She drew out her wand to quickly pour a cooling solvent on the pain she had just caused.  

He sighed in the most meager sign of relief.

"Weasley … I'm … sorry.  I …" He coughed again, his body retching and twisting in pain.  The blood was quickly soaking through the magically-strengthened sheets, and she winced again as the sounds of breaking bones echoed in his torso.  Was he … apologizing?  If she had been slightly less delirious, she probably would have fainted.

"My … father …." He convulsed again, visibly gagging.  "Quidditch game … didn't … didn't …"

"Please … Malfoy, just rest, it's ok."

"…didn't …couldn't … tell you …"  In alarm, Ginny watched another wound open on the crown of his head.  Malfoy let out a nearly inaudible cry of pain.  Instinctively she withdrew her hand.  

"Don't … don't stop …" And with that, he passed out.

Ginny sniffed back the tears and continued to stroke his burning forehead, surveying his body with a medical eye.  In horror, she realized that some of the wounds were fresh, not a part of the giant inventory she had made last week.  And big ones, too.  A stab wound in the side … and that … thing lodged in his stomach.  She'd have to wait for Madame to arrive.

The bruises and blood that covered him were almost too much to handle.  She just kept soothing his brow, feeling his blood pulse feebly beneath her fingertips, and bringing every curse she knew or had ever heard of down on the head of a certain Lucius Malfoy.

************

A/N: That was sobering to write.  Allright.  Well, there you go! Again, I'm soooooooo incredibly sorry for the long wait.  I hope it was worth it … and yes I know, I left it on a cliffie.  You'll find out everything next chapter.

Final copyright notes: The rhyme that Parvati teases Ginny with in the first line is from Ferris Buller's Day off.  I couldn't help myself. =)

Read and Review please!


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